Storybender
by thecurlEgurl
Summary: Iroh's childhood. The tale of how he became the lovable comedian, tea drinker, storyteller and wise man we known. A love story.
1. Vailea

Iroh was eleven when he met her.

Perhaps it was the way her laughter seemed to fill him up inside. Perhaps it was her radiating smile or natural confidence that drew Iroh to the little girl on the opposite side of the courtyard. She has flowers in her hair; the rare panda lilies that Iroh's mother had requested by name. On most occasions it was forbidden to pick any flower from the royal gardens, but the girl seemed to have charmed the group of noblemen surrounding her. No one objected to the growing halo of flowers she was building atop her head.

The girl had woven the ends of the stems together to keep all the panda lilies in place. Had her hair been black, as was common for fire nation citizens, the flower would have blended right in. But this girl had brown hair. It was tied into a traditional and respectful bun with a few loose strands escaping at odd angles. Iroh tentatively fingered his own hair. It was course with large clumps jetting out to one side. There were even bits of twigs in it from when he and Ozai had played 'war'.

"Prince Iroh!" Someone yelled, and the whole yard turned to look at him. "Prince Iroh you know that you are not allowed outside until your lessons are finished. Professor Lee has been waiting for you. He will not be pleased when you arrive late to his lesson." Iroh looked scornfully up at his governess, Madam Ima. She was a tall, but unimposing woman whom Iroh could not help comparing to a bean pole. Her scowl and wangling finger were not unfamiliar jesters to the young prince, who had spent most of his young life avoiding Madam Ima at all costs. Of course this had never been difficult. She was a loud woman whose shrill voice echoed willingly off the palace walls.

"Oh Prince Iroh, look at you. You're such a mess. What will your mother say when I tell her that her son, heir to the Fire Nation throne, has gotten mud all over his nice clothes? Oh shame and misfortune, what is to be done with you?" Madam Ima dragged Iroh off to the palace. His face turned red with embracement when he realized that everyone in the courtyard, including the girl with panda lilies in her hair, was following him with their eyes. Iroh could have sworn he even heard one woman whisper "and _that's_ our future fire lord." If Madam Ima hadn't been eyeing him, Iroh would have shot that woman a dirty look.

"Honestly Iroh," his governess sighed. "When are you going to grow up? This is the third lesson you have been late to this week. We even had to cancel Professor Kenji's fascinating lecture on ancient fire nation architecture. Why if I were you're age I believe that subject would truly fascinate me, and in any case—" but Iroh was not listening to her. He was thinking about the girl with panda lilies in her hair. She must be new around the palace because Iroh had never seen her before. Children, even of esteemed officials, were sparse around the royal court. It was especially rare to find young girls running about. Most fire nation girls were kept at home until the age of 13. Afterwards there was an elaborate coming of age ceremony where the girl in question was introduced into society. In Iroh's mind this was a stupid and unnecessary ritual, but there seemed to be a lot of pointless traditions these days.

When Iroh entered the room, he found Professor Lee just as displeased as Madam Ima had predicted. He was a rather large man with fat, fleshy lips and an unkempt mustache. More than once Iroh had spotted the remains of Professor Lee's meal still sticking to the prickly hairs above his mouth. "You're late" he hissed bitterly. "We should have stared reading the 'Forgotten Scrolls of Akira' at six hours past sunrise." Iroh only stared. He had never liked reading any forgotten scrolls. In his opinion, forgotten scrolls had probably been forgotten for a reason, but telling his teachers this often resulted in punishment.

"Oh, and what's even more wonderful" Professor Lee said sarcastically "is that all my ink has dried up!"

"Why didn't you just close the ink bottle then?" Iroh asked before he could stop himself.

Professor Lee looked livid. "That is the kind of remark that can get bad little boys extra lines at the end of his lesson" his finger was about an inch from Iroh's nose. "I will be back before you can say 'firebending', so don't move" and then he stormed off.

Iroh thought that last remark was somewhat pointless. Don't move? Where could he move to? Madam Ima was breathing down his neck; she would never let him escape. Besides, there was nowhere in the castle Iroh could go without being recognized as the prince. Sometimes he really hated being royal. There was no escape from the constant rituals, duties—it was like being a miniature adult instead of a child.

Iroh sighed and kicked the desk out of boredom. Madam Ima scolded him, but then there was another thump that Iroh had not made. Madam Ima was about to scold him again when she discovered it was a knock at the door. "Well that was fast" she said, referring to Professor Lee. But the man at the door was not Professor Lee. Instead, it was an urgent sounding guard.

"Professor Lee?...broken leg?...Oh how terrible!" Madam Ima shrieked with equal urgency. "Iroh stay here. Professor Lee has broken his leg falling down the stairs, and he needs assistance reaching the infirmary" she said, as if Iroh hadn't already heard all this from her worried 'whispers' with the guard. The fact that Professor Lee needed help reaching the infirmary did not surprise Iroh. A man of Lee's size might have to be wheel barrowed out of the hallway—of course Iroh kept this particular thought to himself.

"Yes, Madam Ima" he said dutifully. Professor Lee being carried to the infirmary was probably the most interesting thing he'd get to see all day, well apart from that girl with the panda lilies in her hair. Iroh let his mind wander for a moment as he thought of her. Chances were he'd never see her again. A child not of royal blood wouldn't be staying long here. A twinge of regret played around his heartbeat at the thought of it. After all, Iroh would have liked to meet her. At that young an age it did not register that what he was feeling was a subtle attraction to the mysterious girl in the garden. All Iroh knew was that he very much wanted to see her again, her and her panda lilies.

That's when an idea struck him; a simple idea, but one he had seen work many times. Girls liked flowers. There were lots of flowers in the palace garden. All Iroh had to do was collect some of the rarest and most beautiful to form a bouquet. He could give them to the girl.

"Yes," Iroh whispered to himself. This scheme was so obvious, and yet it had worked a million times in all the stories and legends he had heard. The boy would gather flowers for a girl, who would respond warmly to the gesture. This idea made him smile, and he took a moment to weigh his options.

On the one hand: he could leave, and directly disobey orders from two of his superiors. But he would get to talk to, or at least see the girl again.

On the other hand: he could stay here; never knowing what became of her.

It was an easy answer really, one Iroh knew he would make even before he asked the question. Slowly opening the door (being careful not to let it squeak), Iroh tip toed out of his room and into the long hall. There was no sign of Madam Ima or Professor Lee. Even the guards seemed to have abandoned their post in order to help the heavy Professor reach the infirmary. Even with a joint effort, Iroh didn't expect to encounter them in the near future. Madam Ima's worry wart nature would surely keep her at Professor Lee's bedside for quite some time. The guards too would have to stay out of respect for a learned elder. Of course Iroh would have been one to question the Professor's supposed 'learnedness', but that was a different topic entirely.

In any case, Iroh's in-depth knowledge of his grandfather's palace allowed him to slip past the pairs of guards. Iroh knew if anyone spotted him, it would be a hundred extra lines at the end of his lesson. But Iroh was small for his age, and could crouch in corners or stand behind curtains without being noticed. With careful maneuvering and silent steps, Iroh was able to make it back into the royal garden. It was still crowded with noblemen and their wives, but where was the little girl? How had her party disappeared so quickly?

In the back of his mind there was a nagging fear that perhaps her stay at the palace was even shorten than he had anticipated. Maybe she was already on her way home—wherever that was for her. Nevertheless, Iroh pushed this thought out of his mind. He spotted the small garden of imported panda lilies and began to pick one or two (just enough so that his mother wouldn't miss them), before moving on to a patch of other colorful flowers.

Being an unobservant boy as he was, Iroh had never noticed how beautiful some of the flowers in the garden were. He had always known there _were_ flowers; he had spent a lot of time here in his eleven years. The garden often served as his sanctuary from the stressful life of being a prince, and it was always a good place to hide when he didn't feel like dealing with Madam Ima. It was a quiet refuge when he needed quiet, but there was always some war veteran recalling the exciting tales of battle if Iroh wanted to be entertained. The garden also harbored a certain magical quality that Iroh had yet to experience in any other part of the palace. In short, it was Iroh's favorite part of his home.

Once he had gathered enough of a bouquet, Iroh decided he better begin his search for the girl before they all wilted. But that's when he heard it; the shrill, unmistakable voice of Madam Ima calling for him through the crowd. He froze in mid step.

"Iroh! Prince Iroh where are you?" She called from afar. What was worse was the fact that Iroh could not see her, he couldn't even tell what direction she was coming from. Anywhere he ran she could be there; ready to drag him back to a dull, mindless lecture about some dull, mindless topic. Even if Professor Lee was in the infirmary there would be someone to take his place. There always was. There was no escape.

Iroh wasn't sure what made him start running deeper into the orchard of the garden. Whether it was the need to see the panda lily girl, or just an urge to escape an hour of boring lectures he did not know. All Iroh knew was that he was running, and he liked it. He was running away from restraints and running away from duty. He felt free and happy—he wasn't sure why he'd ever let himself be taken back into the palace before. The garden just made him feel so, so…but Iroh couldn't finish his thought. For at that precise moment he crashed into something, and his bouquet of flowers went flying.

"Ouch!" He said automatically as his back hit the grass floor. For a moment his vision was blurry, and Iroh couldn't make out what exactly he had crashed into. But then, in a flood of horror, he realized _who_ he had crashed into.

The little girl with panda lilies in her hair rubbed her head tenderly. Half of the flowers that had been weaved into her hair had fallen out and mixed with the fallen bouquet. It was impossible to tell whose flowers were whose, everything was so mixed up. "Err," she groaned, still rubbing he place where hers and Iroh's heads had collided.

"Are, are you Ok?" Iroh asked tentatively, all trace of his happy feeling was gone now. This was not the way he had imaged introducing himself to the girl who once had woven panda lilies in her hair. He reached out awkwardly to comfort her, but to his surprise she began to laugh. Not a subtle giggle, but an outright belly laugh.

"Ouch!" She screamed in the midst of her laughter, and she did not sound angry. "Wow you really ran into me. How fast do you think you were going? I can almost see stars." She opened her eyes, smiling.

Iroh was simply confused. Since when did running into people get that kind of reaction? But he could only croak out "Um, I dunno how fast. Did I hurt you?"

"Nope. I'm fine." She said, still smiling. She stood up and offered Iroh a hand, which he took gratefully. "My name is Vailea." She said matter-of-factly. "You must be Prince Iroh. I've heard a lot about you."

Iroh was about to respond (_What_ exactly had she heard about him?) when that shrill voice rang through the orchard. "Iroh! Prince Iroh is that you?" Iroh froze, and his face must have said it all because Vailea knew right away what to do.

"Follow me," she said without hesitation, and Iroh obeyed. She took his hand; sending shivers through his body, and led him down another row of trees. It seemed silly to him that she be the one leading. After all, Iroh took great pride in being the most knowledgeable about all the secret paths and escape roots throughout his palace home. But she seemed to know exactly where she was going, so Iroh didn't question her.

Vailea led Iroh to a large tree in the center of the orchard. It was more twisted than the others, and the knobs in the bark made it look easily climbable. "Go," she said, directing him upwards. Iroh obeyed instantly. Her voice was not commanding, and yet it held a sort of innate authority in it. It was strong, but kind. He liked it. "Shhhh." She put a finger over her lips when they were both situated high in its branches.

"Prince Iroh!" The shrill voice called. "Prince Iroh where are you? We've just heard wonderful news! Professor Lee only sprained his ankle and he'll be fine in a day or two! Prince Iroh! Prince Iroh we've found a replacement tutor for the time being. Prince Iroh!" Her voice was almost unbearable, and Iroh cupped his hands over his ears. Vailea stifled a giggle. But she could not help mimicking Madam Ima's mouth movements. When Madam Ima would shout 'Prince Iroh' Vailea's lips would move in turn with the words. She crossed her eyes and waggled her finger at Iroh as she did this, causing him to suppress his own laughter.

Just when it seemed like she would never leave, Madam Ima spoke in a hoarse voice "Well alright Prince Iroh, if you're going to be that way I wont waste my breath." _Too late_ Iroh thought to himself, but he kept silent. "I suppose I'll have to tell Professor Ami that she won't be able to substitute for Professor Lee today because the prince is being child!" She finished dramatically, and stomped off.

Iroh let out a sigh, and smiled at Veilea. "Thank you." He said simply. She smiled back with an even bigger grin.

"You're welcome. I hope this doesn't make things harder for you when you finally have to face her."

"It will, but I really don't care. I'm sorry for hitting you earlier." It was amazing how calm he now felt with Vailea. It was as if he had known her forever, being with her felt so right.

"Oh that's fine." She said honestly. "It was an amazing rush when you hit me; everything was blurred like a water color painting." She smiled again, and took the remaining flowers out of her hair. It tumbled down accordingly.

"What's a water color painting?" Iroh asked with genuine curiosity.

"You mean you've never seen one?" Vailea asked, pulling a few more flower stems out of her hair. "They're beautiful. The colors all flow together. It looks like something out of this world. We used to do them all the time where I came from."

"Which is?" Iroh asked again. Where did girls like Vailea come from?

There was so much hair in her face when Veilea answered that Iroh couldn't read her expression. "I'll tell you about it some time. We can meet in this tree. I'll tell you some stories about my life, and you can tell me some about yours." She tried pinning her hair back up into a traditional bun.

Iroh nodded. He liked the idea of sneaking out to meet her in the orchard and talk again. What was more, it sounded like she wanted it to make it a tradition. "Yeah," he nodded, but Iroh could not think of any story that was worth telling her. Most of his life had been spent avoiding the inevitable—obligations. "That sounds like a great idea."

"We can meet on full moons when it's bright outside. We can tell each other stories. We can meet in this, in our story tree."


	2. In the Kitchen

Over the next several months, Iroh and Vailea became inseparable. They spent almost all their free time together; participating in what Madam Ima referred to as 'an unhealthy dose of tomfoolery'. Nevertheless, Vailea's natural charm and manor was warmly intercepted by the palace staff. The cooks all knew her by name, and she knew all the cooks. She formed a particularly strong bond with the head chef. It was not unheard of for her to share some of the desserts with Vailea before they was served to the royal family. When others disapproved of this act the head chef would simply explain that Vailea was helping her with a taste test. And of course Vailea, being who she was, would share the platter with Iroh before it was served to his family. Had the two not spent so much of their time outrunning Iroh's various commitments, they would have gotten very fat.

As Vailea's popularity spread, so did the mystery behind her. It soon came to light the Vailea was daughter to the young, but respected General Junren; a man whose attractiveness had won him many lovers, but no wives. Unfortunately, the fact that Junren was unmarried brought even more attention to the controversial situation. One noblewoman made the mistake of saying out loud her opinion that "it seems foolish for a motherless brat to receive so much special treatment from the palace staff." The unlucky woman unfortunately made this comment within earshot of a group of palace maids, who naturally passed on the woman's colorful comment to the cooks. Over the next several weeks the same woman suffered from a variety of ailments. First, she complained that her sheets were making her skin itch; a problem that her husband (who slept in the same bed) did not experience. Second, the woman began to insist that her food tasted strange, and that it was giving her chronic stomach aches. And after several days of vomiting and itching, the woman and her husband retreated to the countryside for some fresh air. Controversy over Vailea spread even further when it was discovered that the young prince was spending all his time with her. Rumors of an arranged engagement spread like wildfire; rumors that were only too quickly squashed by the royal family. Although they tolerated Vailea and her eccentric behavior, the Firelord and Lady still resented that their son was spending so much time with a girl of questionable breeding. Even though General Junren was of an acceptable status, neither Vailea nor Junren disclosed any information about the mother. Sure, Iroh had tried many times to coax it out of Vailea, but she had stayed stubbornly silent. It was one topic they could not breach.

Everything else however, was fair game. Iroh and Vailea talked about anything, and the once quiet Prince became exceedingly chattier. He became less of an introvert the more time he spent with the confident Vailea. She introduced him to the palace staff, most of whom he had never met, and suddenly Iroh's circle of friends became numerous. This was one aspect of his life however, that Iroh was sure to keep from his parents. It was one thing to be spending all his time with the daughter of a General; it was another to be laughing with the servants.

"They threatened to stop teaching me how to firebend." Iroh confided in the head cook. He, like Vailea, had developed a close friendship with her. She was a big lady, whose motherly nature was part of what Iroh liked about her. His own mother, who had been raised in a strict nobleman's household, often forgot that children needed a certain kind of loving attention.

"Stop teaching you how to firebend? No. Really? Aw baby, that's awful. Why are they doing it?" She asked with genuine concern.

"They say I'm not taking my education seriously enough." Iroh shuffled his feet. "They say I'm not studying hard, and" Iroh's voice grew into a whisper so only the cook could hear "and they say I'm spending too much time with—" but Iroh did not finish his sentence because the person he was spending too much time with had just walked the kitchen door.

"Hey Lea!" A few cooks called out to her in the nick-name they had chosen, and head chef Ai smiled warmly. But she quickly shot Iroh a warning look as if to say _'don't say anything about it'_.

"Lea baby, where have you been? Iroh and I have been waiting for you so we could all do a taste test. I'm trying a new recipe you know." She pinched Vailea's cheek, but Vailea didn't seem to mind.

"That sounds great!" She said enthusiastically, tucking a napkin into her kimono. "So, what did I miss?"

Iroh and the head chef Ai shot each other furtive glances. "Iroh was just telling me about his firebending practice, weren't you Iroh?" The cook asked as she turned to take a slice of whatever desert she had made. It smelt heavenly, even by her standards (which were high). Iroh was almost too distracted by the smell to respond.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, we were." Iroh snapped his head back from the alluring scent. "They're teaching me how to turn a whole tree to ashes in seconds." He nodded enthusiastically, mimicking the hand movements without actually shooting fire out of them. He smiled back at Vailea, but she was frowning.

"I don't understand why you'd ever need to know how to do that." She said, and there was real sadness in her eyes. "I don't understand why they need to teach you how to be so destructive. You're _not_ a monster." Iroh had to keep from rolling his eyes as she said this. Firebending was one thing they always disagreed upon. Vailea was a natural pacifist; she didn't understand how people could use their firebending to induce harm. She didn't understand how useful violence could be. After all, they weren't going to win the war by throwing bouquets at one another.

"Lea it's just for practice. You wouldn't want to practice on a human would you?" Iroh asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Iroh you know I—" but she didn't get a chance to finish. Ai, anticipating an argument, had stuffed the dessert into Vailea's mouth before she could continue. Although Vailea was a generally kind person, things could get ugly when you struck the wrong cord with her. The topic of using firebending as a weapon was a particularly tender subject, but no one ever knew why. Most, Iroh included, merely assumed it was part of her peace loving nature.

"Don't be mad with me, Lea." Iroh tried to look her in the eyes, but Vailea only chewed angrily in response. Iroh tried resisting the urge to laugh, but could not help himself when a small chuckle escaped. "You look like a Rabbaroo when you chew like that." He said with a smile.

She gulped angrily. "Well you look like a deamon when you blast fire out of your hands and kill innocent trees!" Vailea ripped the napkin out of her kimono and stormed to the door, but stopped just short of leaving.

The whole kitchen was looking at her now; many had never seen Vailea in this much of a rage before. Iroh had; only once, and it was over the same issue. He had said he wanted to get better at the fire daggers so he could slice his enemy's arms off in a single swipe. She hadn't like that.

"I'm…" Vailea braced herself against the doorframe, still facing the exit. "I'm sorry Iroh." She said in a much smaller voice. "I don't know what came over me." She turned to face him, and there were tears in her eyes. "I—I…" Vailea trailed off for a moment. "It's just hard sometimes," she explained, but she didn't say anymore. Instead, she turned and ran out the kitchen door.

Iroh simply stared. "You better go get her Prince Charming." Ai said, and her lips pursed in disapproval. "I'd reckon you might want to keep off the topic of murder from now on." She continued, handing Iroh some desert. But Iroh handed it back to her. "It's not for you." She said in response. "It's a peace offering. You'll need it if you want to face that again." She gestured in the direction Vailea had just left.

"I didn't mean to make her mad." Iroh said honestly. "I forget; she's not really fire nation at heart. She doesn't have a warrior's spirit."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Ai spun around to face him. There was disbelief written all over her face. "Just because that girl's got a heart means she isn't fire nation enough for you? My, my goodness." She said, pulling up a chair. Iroh implied that he wanted to leave.

"I need to find--" He started, but Ai just shook her head.

"We need to make time for this," and she meant business. "Iroh, baby" she began. "It's true the fire nation is known for its strength and its warriors, but we're also more than that. Fire is an element of passion. Haven't you ever heard of the fires of love?" The question wasn't rhetorical, and Iroh nodded uncertainly. "What I mean is that Fire isn't just about burning something _or_ someone to a crisp. It's about emotion and intensity. It's about loving life, and having passion for it." She squeezed him as she said this, her motherly qualities becoming exposed. "Now," and Ai turned Iroh to face her. "Think about that, and think about Vailea. She might not have the mindset of a warrior, but try telling me you've never seen the fire in her eyes when she smiles. Tell me you can't see the way she dances like a flame or lights up a room just by walking into it." Ai paused and smiled faintly. "Tell me that you can't feel a fire burning inside you every time she touches you," and Ai's smile grew bigger.

Iroh blushed crimson at these words. He recalled the first time Vailea had touched him in their story tree, and how he had felt an electric current run through him. He remembered the—wait a minute. Iroh's thoughts broke into new ones: the story tree. "Ai what time is it?"

"It's about an hour or two until sunset, and about half an hour until dinner. Why?"

"Because I know where I can find her, tonight's a full moon." Iroh took the cake in his hands and turned for the door, but he stopped to bow. "Thank you Madam Ai, for your wise words."

"Madam am I? Woo-wee. I could get used to that." She laughed and continued to smile. "Go get her Prince Charming. I'll tell your parents that you have a head cold, and won't be able to join them for dinner." Ai nodded and pointed Iroh out the door. "What are you all looking at?" She asked the many sets of curious eyes and ears that had perked up in the midst of their discussion. "Get back to work! Didn't you hear me? Dinner is only half an hour away!"

**Author's Note: **I wanted some more character development. I also wanted to introduce Ai, and yes I do see her as a big, black, southern woman. Don't hate. In other news: I'm really starting to get attached to Vailea…a good sign that I'll finish this story. The next chapter will have the scene mouseykins asked for.


	3. Firebender

**Authors Note**: FYI this is not yet the scene mouseykins requested. That's coming later. This is a similar scene that I thought needed to happen before their laughter and tea drinking in mouseykins drawing. But next time, I won't spoil it and say what's coming up! Also, I've been updating a lot now because I'm on spring break. Unfortunately, school starts again on Monday and I won't be able to update as often. Sorry!

It wasn't dark yet. The sinking sun made shadows across the garden. The trees looked liked old women with long arms calling out to him, and the thought of it made Iroh shiver. He wanted to find Vailea, and he wanted to apologize. But how would she respond? Iroh didn't like to think about it.

The first and only time he had never gotten in a fight with Vailea, she hadn't talked to him for almost a week. That had been, undoubtedly, the most boring week Iroh had ever had to endure. There had been nothing to do without her clever ideas to keep the both of them entertained. Well, nothing to do accept search for her. Iroh remembered that simply seeking her out had been a challenge. Vailea, like him, was small for her age and could hide in all the tiny crevices that were almost impossible to search. By the time the full moon had come around, Iroh had nearly given up his search for her entirely; to this day it was his bleakest defeat. Luckily, Vailea had come to their story tree on the night of the full moon. She was still angry, but she loved telling and hearing stories too much to let the evening pass by. Iroh hoped the same would be true this night.

As the fading light continued to dance across the horizon, Iroh thought about what the head cook had said to him. He had always been taught to think of fire as a weapon, as _his_ weapon. He was a firebender and a warrior. Iroh could be deadly if he wanted to. Even now when he was still training, Iroh knew he could probably kill a man if need be. He could burn him to a crisp. When the man cried his last few breaths, Iroh could be the one to deliver that final blow.

Then Iroh thought of Vailea, and he thought of her laughter. He thought of the way her smile still managed to fill him up inside—fill him up with warmth, and with happiness. Could she really be fire nation at heart? Could everything he had learned about who or what the Firenation was be so false? The idea was troubling. He once had such a clear idea of what it meant to be a firebender, but now he was not so sure.

Iroh snapped his fingers and a small flame erupted from the end of his fingertips; lighting the path. He began to call out "Lea! Vah ee LEH ah!" He shouted every syllable of her name. Their story tree was coming into view, but Iroh still could not see his best friend. He quickened his pace. The shadows from the trees were becoming longer and more frightening. Iroh would never have admitted it, but he wanted to find Vailea to ease the fear of the unknown. The shadows looked menacing, and he could have sworn there was something moving in the brush.

"Lea! Lea where are you? Lea I'm…" Iroh took a deep breath. "Lea I'm sorry. Where are you?" He picked up a dry twig and lit the end of it to better illuminate the area around their tree. The stars were almost visible now, and the full moon was just as big and beautiful as it always was.

Vailea always liked the moon, Iroh remembered. Sometimes she would tell him folktales from her 'old home' (Vailea was never more specific than that) about the moon. She had explained that the moon had been the first waterbender. When Iroh complained that he didn't care about that tribe of barbarians, Vailea had only smiled sadly and told him "It's important to learn about the other nations, not just our own. It might help you someday." Of course Iroh had just taken her word for it. Years before he had ever met Vailea, his elders had always explained that fire was the superior element. That water, earth and air had no place in a world dominated by fire.

"Iroh," came a small voice from above his head.

Iroh looked up into the braches of their story tree. "Is that you Vailea?" He asked, putting his burning twig above his head to illuminate the branches.

She didn't say anything, but instead jumped out of the tree; landing a few paces from him. Her clothes were covered with dirt, and the part of her kimono where her knees were had grass stains on them. Her hair, although still pulled into a traditional bun, had bits of twig and leaves from the tree stuck in it. Had it not been for the style of clothes she was wearing, Vailea would have looked like a peasant.

"Hi," Iroh said uncertainly. He noticed that Vailea wasn't glaring anymore, but she still had that distinct sadness in her eyes. It would almost be better, Iroh thought, for her to be mad at him. It was difficult to look at her face when the fire had stopped dancing, and she wasn't illuminating her surroundings with her simle. It was like she was someone else entirely.

"Hi, Iroh." Vailea responded in a hoarse voice. It was uncanny to hear her voice in such a whisper. Vailea was known for being loud and boisterous. It was part of her extroverted nature.

"Listen Lea, I'm really sorry. I forget that you hate when I talk about my firebending like that. I—" Iroh stopped because Vailea had shushed him.

"No Iroh. You shouldn't be sorry." She forced her eyes into his in the same way Chef Ai had. It meant business. "Iroh, firebending is part of you, and I know that. I know it makes you feel alive when you practice it. I can see it in your eyes."

_She saw it in his eyes? When had Vailea ever seen him firebend? She was usually as far away as possible from the training ground._ Vailea must have sensed Iroh thinking this because she continued with. "I snuck into watch you once." She said with a blush. "I wanted to know what about firebending was so great. I saw how energized you were, and it scared me. It was like you had turned into something else, something that wasn't Iroh."

"But I _am_ a firebender." Iroh interrupted. "I love to firebend!"

"No, no I know that." Vailea said hurriedly. "I would never want to change that either. It's just that…" Vailea trailed off again. "Iroh, can I tell you a story?"

"Sure," he said uncertainly, but in reality it did not surprise him. Vailea often used her stories and their fictional characters to represent what she really meant. Vailea, despite her confidence, always had trouble digging deep within herself. She couldn't talk about personal experiences without breaking into tears. But Vailea was not one to be emotional in front of a crowd, and she would often cover it up with her laughter.

Iroh remembered the first time Vailea had used symbols in her stories to tell him the truth about something. Of course that first time the situation didn't have to do with her at all. It had been a much broader topic then. It was a topic which was essential for all boys and girls to know, but one that Iroh's father had fallen just short of explaining. When Vailea learned this, she made it her duty to inform the confused prince. She told him about a bee and a flower, and how a boy was a bee and a girl was a flower. At first this symbolism went over Iroh's head completely, but the young prince eventually caught on. It had been a slightly awkward and embarrassing realization for him.

"Once," Vailea began, and she pulled Iroh down to sit next to her. "There was a man. He was not a king, but nor was he a peasant. He was just a man. He was not particularly greedy or extraordinarily generous. He was not a murderer." Vailea continued like she always did, taking on a voice that seemed to come from a different time. It was a voice that held the same authority as she did when she had first instructed Iroh to '_Go'_ up their story tree.

"The only difference between this man and any other was that he had stumbled upon a secret. In the cave near his village, far away from the prying eyes of villagers, there lived a dragon. He was an ancient dragon, whose age was not known even to him. The dragon was wise and careful. He had vast and terrible powers that were unleashed only on the evil and wicked of heart.

Despite their many differences, the man and the dragon formed a strong bond. They understood one another, and the Dragon even agreed to teach the mortal how to use his vast powers."

Iroh's eyes widened more for effect than anything else. He wanted to show Vailea that he was listening. He hoped it would make up for their earlier argument.

"The Dragon, whose greatness in power was matched only by his vast wisdom, knew the dangers of teaching a human how to control fire. The immortal Dragon had spent his long years mastering the patience and control needed to manipulate the flame. He only hoped that this man, who had shown no prior signs of uncontrollable greed or lust for power, would be able to master fire as well. After many long years of loneliness, the Dragon hoped to finally share his gift with another.

But loneliness and longing can often manipulate common sense and wisdom. Even when the Dragon first began teaching the man steady breathing and proper patience, he thought there was a trace of lust behind his eyes. But once again, the Dragon's desire to share his talents with his mortal friend made him turn the other cheek. The wise old Dragon continued his teaching, and soon the mortal man could manipulate the fire.

At first he could only manage small tricks; throwing a flame for instance—nothing terribly dangerous. Over time however, he grew tired of these simple tricks. He asked the Dragon to show him more. And the Dragon, delighted with his friend's eagerness to learn, was all too willing to teach. He should have seen it there, the Dragon. The lust and greed and thirst for power behind the man's eyes was becoming too noticeable. He would have been blind not to see it. But the Dragon still turned the other cheek, until it was too late.

For the first time, the mortal man began using his powers to achieve power. He became feared among the villagers he had once befriended. They watched as the flames shot out from his limbs, and they only saw a monster. He demanded to be their king, and the villagers obeyed. And as they cowered in fear of his terrible powers, and the wise old Dragon knew what must be done. He loved the mortal man; their friendship had caused him great happiness. It would also cause him great pain.

For a long time the Dragon could not bring himself to do what he knew he must, and so the man lived on. He terrified and horrified, he even took a wife. He took the one woman who did not cower in fear in his presence. She had a spirit that could not be broken, even in the face of death. She did not love him, but she did love her family. As long as she was the Firelord's wife, her family would go unharmed.

Soon after their marriage, the woman bore a son. The boy was taught to manipulate fire from his father, and was taught how to love by his mother. Thus, the boy—the first true firebender was born of love and fear. When the Dragon learned of his birth, he knew he could not kill the father. It was too late to undue his mistake. So the firebenders lived on, and from their passion there grew a great nation.

The Dragon lived on for many years afterwards, and saw the tragedy that came from his teaching. He saw children die in the hands of those could control the fire, but he also saw their deaths at the hands of other nations. All of this saddened him greatly, for he both loved and hated the beautiful and terrible people whom he had indirectly created. The old Dragon eventually lost contact with his mortal friend, and he never knew what became of the man; the man whose fire both created and destroyed him."


	4. The Bazaar

Iroh never forgot the story about the origins of firebending. It became his favorite out of the many that Vailea had, and would continue to tell him in the course of their friendship. He liked it simply because it was about firebending, and he loved the way Vailea's face would light up every time she told him the story. It was one of those times when she took on the persona of a much older, much wiser storyteller. Yet it also bothered him that Vailea had such a negative view of firebenders, and Iroh's firebending in particular. Whatever her attempts to be cryptic, Iroh knew Vailea had meant for him to represent the moral man in her story. He was the firebender who had not yet been tempted by the greed and lust of his powers, but could eventually succumb. It bothered him that Vailea didn't trust his strength. Iroh loved firebending for how it made him feel, not for the power it could bring him. He was going to be Firelord after all, how much more power could he gain through firebending?

Vailea was Iroh's best friend, but sometimes she was so self-righteous. She acted like she knew more about Iroh than he himself did. She assumed that just because he enjoyed firebending, that he would end up like the character in her story. Why was she always so fearful of firebending anyway? She lived in the Firelord's palace! There were firebenders everywhere; Iroh had hoped she would have been used to it by now. But Vailea continued to be skeptical of the benders, and she was unlikely to drop the habit.

"Iroh!" Vailea called to him in her usual loud, booming voice. After her uncharacteristic quietness during the full moon, it hadn't taken long for Vailea's true nature to return. She and Iroh generally regarded that one evening as a break in reality. Iroh never spoke of it because he was worried that it would bring back Vailea's hostile emotions, and he was thankful that she seemed to agree with ignoring the event all together. It had been several months since that outing, and the only part of the evening's events they discussed was the legend of firebending. Iroh had asked her whether the story was true, and she had (characteristically) avoided answering it by posing another question. "_Do you think it's true?_" She had responded. He hadn't made up his mind on that one yet.

"Hello Lea," Iroh turned to smile at her. Despite her flaws, she was still his best friend. Her strengths outweighed her faults any day. She was self-righteous, loud, obnoxious, headstrong, stubborn…and Iroh liked her that way.

"My father is coming home today." She said excitedly, still panting from running down the long hall to greet him. Her father, General Junren, had been away from home during the past few weeks. He had been sent on a short mission, but Iroh hadn't been told where. All he knew what that Vailea had been suspiciously excited ever since her father had departed in early spring. Iroh's father left on war related business all the time, and he was never this enthusiastic.

"That's great Lea," he said honestly. It was great.

"Do you want to come with me to the docks to greet him?" She asked hopefully.

"I have—" Iroh was about to say that he had Professor Lee's lesson in half an hour, but the Ancient Scrolls were no more fascinating than the Forgotten ones. He had no interest in them. "I have no problem in coming." Iroh quickly corrected himself, and Vailea beamed.

"Are you sure you don't have classes?" She asked skeptically. That was a stupid question. Of course he had classes. Iroh always had classes. He was always being dragged off by Madam Ima to his various commitments. Iroh thought she secretly reveled in his unhappiness.

"No." He said casually. The lie came easily to his lips. Whether she had intended to or not, Vailea had taught Iroh how to be a better liar. It wasn't that she lied all the time, but Vailea always knew the rights words to use if she needed to get the two of them out of a sticky situation. It was a useful skill to have when you wanted to fabricate an alibi.

"Perfect," she said. "I'll get us past the guards."

As it turned out, Vailea never had to use her talents to outsmart the palace guards. Three hours past noon was the customary changing of the guards, and the new officers had yet to take their posts when Iroh and Vailea walked by. As a result, they had a clear shot to the harbor. Of course it was routine for Iroh to wear a cloak outside the palace. Whenever the two escaped into society, Iroh made sure to cover his face. They couldn't afford one person to recognize him as the prince and return them to the palace (where they would face almost certain punishment). Iroh hadn't been recognized yet, and he hoped his luck would continue.

"Ohhh," Vailea cooed as they passed a merchants stall. Vailea loved bargain hunting. The first time she and Iroh had been to market, the merchant Vailea tried to buy from wouldn't accept her money. _'What makes you think we'd accept that kind of money here?'_ He had asked angrily. Vailea had had retorted with _'It's money isn't it? What kind of merchant doesn't accept money?'_ An argument had ensued, and Iroh had had to drag her away from the stand still yelling. He often wondered what kind of money she had that the merchant wouldn't accept, but she had stored it away before he could get a better look.

One might have thought that that incident would have been embracing enough to keep Vailea away from shopping, but it was completely the opposite. Every time they went out together, Vailea couldn't help but bring home at least one piece of useless junk to add to her collection. _'I like things.' _She had said simply. Vailea especially liked items that were from foreign ports—treasures she called them. Her reasoning was that _'You never know who last owned them.' _

"What's that?" She asked the man in the stall as she pointed to an exotic headdress. It was practically dripping feathers and fur.

"Lea, we don't really have time for this." Iroh cut in.

"Sure we do." She retorted. "My father's ship won't be in for a while. Not having to sweet talk our way past those guards cut our escape time in half."

Iroh sighed in annoyance. He hated shopping. It was boring and always took forever.

"Come on Iroh," Vailea said in response to his sigh. "The only thing better than finding what you're looking for, is finding something you weren't looking for at a great price!"

"I hear that!" The merchant agreed as he pulled down the headdress. "This beauty is authentic Northern Water Tribe ritual garb. It's 20 gold pieces for a treasure this rare, but I guarantee it's worth every bit of the cost."

Vailea's eyes widened. She reached out to touch it, but the Merchant recoiled. "I'm sorry little lady. Unless you're buying it, I can't risk letting anyone's fingers besmirch this rarity."

Vailea nodded, and quickly began digging in her bag for the money necessary.

"Lea," Iroh complained. "Lea it's a waste of money. When are you ever going to wear it?" He looked at the barbarian headdress in disgust. Who would want to wear something that furry? "Lea even if you do buy it, my grandfather is never going to let you wear a ritual Water Tribe garment. He's the—" Iroh paused. It probably wasn't best to mention that his grandfather was the Fire Lord when they were trying to be discreet. "Well you know who he is, and he doesn't like it when stuff from other nations soils his living space."

"It's not going to soil anything." She cut back caustically. "If he doesn't like it, then we just won't tell him about it." She said, pulling the necessary coins out of her bag and handing it to the merchant. "I like it, and I'm going to buy it."

The merchant handed Vailea the headdress, and she put it on right away. She glowed in it. The thing itself made her look like tiny bear with feathers stuck in its brain, but she was so happy to have it on that her entire being glowed with excitement. "How do I look?" She asked, posing with a hand on her hip.

"Kind of like a bird that ran headfirst into a bear." Iroh said sarcastically. "You pull it off very well though."

She laughed and pulled the headdress into her arms. "It was a good buy then." She said, still smiling. "Hey, would you like to try it on?" She might as well have phrased it as a statement because she stuck it on Iroh's head all the same. He teetered a bit, the headdress felt much heavier than it looked. Of course he looked ridiculous. There was something about the grandson of the Firelord in traditional Water Tribe garb that didn't sit well with the universe. "Pose!" Vailea ordered.

Iroh did as he was told; making the same outlandish pose that Vailea had made a minute earlier. The only difference was that Iroh pouted his lips like the Geisha's he'd seen painted on posters. Vailea went into hysterics. "You have such a sense of humor Iroh." She said. "You should show it more often."

He handed the headdress back to Vailea. Because of its size Vailea couldn't fit it into her bag, so she carried it in her arms. This resulted in many unwanted stares and sideways glances from the buyers and sellers in the bazaar. Vailea only smiled dreamily, happy with her purchase. Whether she was ignoring their curiosity or really oblivious to all the strange looks, Iroh could not tell. All he knew was that the combination of her father coming home and the new headdress had put Vailea in a scarily good mood. In fact, she hadn't been in a mood _this_ good in a while. Maybe he could take advantage of it.

That's when Iroh made the decision. He wanted to do something bold. He wanted to ask Vailea a question that had been burning inside him ever since they met. He wanted to know more about her. Vailea was his best friend, and he didn't even know where she came from. He knew almost nothing of her life before meeting him. It wasn't fair, Iroh had convinced himself. Vailea knew so much about him, but he knew so little about her.

"Lea," he began cautiously, minding her temperament. "I was wondering if you could tell me something."

"Sure. What is it?" Vailea's pleasant mood was holding, this was a good sign.

"I just wanted to know…Where did you used to live? Was it at a port? Was it near a marketplace near this one? Was it in a Fire Nation colony?" Iroh continued to mumble. He thought maybe if he got all the words out fast enough, Vailea would be too overwhelmed to yell at him. But when Iroh looked up, she had stopped a few paces back. "Vailea?" He asked uncertainly.

At first she didn't respond. "I thought I told you not to ask me that." She said. It was not an angry voice, or even a sad voice. It was what it was, a statement.

"Yeah I know." Iroh continued. "But it's just; I don't even know where you came from. I know hardly anything about you." He saw the barbarian headdress in her hands. Vailea was peculiar in so many ways; he just wanted to know why.

"That's not true." Vailea shot back. "You know a lot about me. You know my favorite color, my favorite food. You know—"

"But anyone could figure that out." Iroh said, interrupting her. "Lea how can I get you to trust me? I want to get to know you better, and I want to understand you. I want to understand why you have to buy every imported item that comes through the docks."

"I like things." She repeated the old reasoning.

"No you don't. You don't let your father give you expensive combs or perfumes even though he can afford it. You don't like all the gowns and dresses they put in your closet." Iroh was speaking quickly again. He wanted to get to the bottom of this. It had been burning inside of him so long; the questions had finally blasted like fireballs out his mouth.

"Iroh," she said in a whisper, careful that no one nearby could hear the prince's name. "I'd tell you if there was anything to tell." She sighed. "If I do tell you, will you stop nagging me about it? Will you stop bringing it up?"

"Yes!" Iroh said a little too loudly.

Vailea rolled her eyes. "Before I lived here I lived with my mother in the south. We were happy together, and one day my father came. He and my mother decided that I would have more opportunities if I went to live with him in the north. So I did." She finished simply.

Iroh hesitated. Somehow this was not the answer he had been expecting. Iroh couldn't image that a person like Vailea could have such a simple back story. He had expected her to come from some extraordinary place in a land he had never heard of. Well, maybe that was a little farfetched, but he still felt ill at ease with the notion that Vailea could comprise her entire life into a few short sentences.

"Is that all?" He asked.

"Yes."

"What about your mother. What ever happened to her?"

"I thought you promised to stop nagging me if I told you." She scowled.

Iroh was about to argue, but a whistle sounded. The call meant that a new ship was docking. Vailea took Iroh's hand; knowing exactly whose ship it was. Iroh followed in a daze. He couldn't shake the feeling that Vailea was still keeping something from him. He knew he couldn't ask more now, but he would find out later.

"There he is!" Vailea pointed to her father, who was walking onto the dock. Several other women stared it him, but for strikingly different reasons. General Junren was young, successful and handsome. He usually attracted some sort of female attention, but today he only had eyes for his daughter.

"Vailea," He headed straight for her, and lifted her up into his arms. "I missed you." He said, and it sounded perfectly genuine. As far as Iroh knew, Junren had no other children besides Vailea. He had no wife and no other family living in the palace. Vailea was his whole world.

"Father, you remember…" She leaned over to whisper 'Iroh' in his hear. They were still hoping that no one would recognize the prince.

General Junren turned to look at the small hooded boy. Iroh smiled sheepishly, and bowed as was customary.

"He shouldn't be here." Junren said immediately. "Vailea did you bring him here with you? Vailea, you can't do that. What if he'd gotten hurt, or kidnapped, or killed?" Junren was frowning now, and by this time he had set Vailea down. She was frowning too.

"Father it wasn't like we were leaving the town. We just wanted to come see you. I missed you, and Iroh came to keep me company." She explained.

"Sir, I wanted to come." Iroh said in as sincere a voice as he could muster. He observed that General Junren looked much less handsome when he was frowning. He appeared so serious with furrowed brows.

Maybe it was his sense of duty towards the Fire Lord that had him worried about Iroh. Even so, Iroh felt a bit resentful that another person was trying to cage him within the iron bars of the palace. Ironically, _his_ daughter had been the first to show him how to be free. She had taught him how to escape both within and outside the palace walls. Once Iroh had tasted this freedom, he always had trouble turning back into confinement. Being free made him feel at ease with the world.

"We have to get him back to the palace." Junren said simply. "We'll have to tell the Fire Lord where you've been."

"No we don't." Vailea argued.

Iroh decided that Vailea must have gotten her sense of adventure from her mother. Despite being a General, Junren seemed to under appreciate the art of 'getting away'. He appeared a man of order and planning. Although Iroh had been raised to accept the same disciplines General Junren was displaying, he had gradually grown away from them. Planning and discipline was necessary sometimes, but everyone should experience the thrill of spontaneous adventure.

"Yes we do. It's the responsible course of action. Let's hurry you back, both of you." General Junren called a few last orders to the sailors who had accompanied him on the voyage before herding Iroh and Vailea back to the palace.

**Authors Note**: URG. This chapter was done on Wednesday, but every time I tried to submit it wouldn't let me. They would tell me there was an error and send me to a support website that my computer claimed 'does not exist'. So, now that I've finally been able to get the chapter up…

Not my favorite chapter, but I wrote it over the course of a few days…so I couldn't get into the flow that I usually do. If you're reading this right now, I would appreciate any feedback about this chapter or the story in general (many thanks to 'TheTwilightRurouni' for all the positive feedback and constructive criticism). I always like receiving comments; it makes me want to get chapters out faster when I know I have an audience. Anyway, I'll try and get the next chapter out as soon as possible!


	5. Climbing BaSingSe

The following weeks were painful. Iroh was instructed to stay within the palace confines at all times. Madam Ima was assigned to escort the young prince to his lessons, and forced to give hourly reports of Iroh's whereabouts. Any servant, guard or nobleman who caught the prince without a guide was to report it immediately. Any servant, guard or nobleman aiding the prince in an activity that the Fire Lord deemed unsuitable would be severely punished. This was Iroh's sentence.

General Junren had notified the Fire Lord the same day he met Iroh and Vailea in the harbor. He had dutifully informed Iroh's grandfather that the two children had left the palace unsupervised and without permission. Infuriated at this news, the Fire Lord did all he could to prevent another escape. Although he was concerned for his grandson's safety, Fire Lord Sozin was more obsessed with purging Iroh of the undesirable traits that he had recently acquired. His grandson had always been rebellious, but it was a condition the family hoped would straighten out with time. Thus, it was of great concern when Iroh's behavior began to intensify. He had begun missing lessons instead of just running late. His attitude had gone from being quiet and respectful, to loud and jolly. The Fire Lord had even heard rumors that his grandson, heir to the Fire Nation throne, spent his free time conversing with servants.

Leaving the palace without permission or escort was simply the last straw. Fire Lord Sozin had planned for Iroh to become not only ruler of their nation, but of the world as well. He had hoped that the first born son of Azulon would posses more traits that were desirable in a leader. Fire Lord Sozin anticipated that he might have to turn to Azulon's second son, Ozai. Despite his obvious ambition, it had always been clear that Ozai's firebending talents were mediocre in comparison to Iroh's.

As for the matter of Iroh's friend, she was to be punished as well. Fire Lord Sozin considered himself a reasonable man, and he had been a downright saint to allow a General to keep a motherless child with him at the palace. He had agreed to do this in the hopes that Vailea would possess more of her father's characteristics of honestly and duty to the throne. Instead, Sozin found her a wild child whose eccentric behavior was contaminating his grandson. He had half a mind to exile her from the palace. It had obviously been her influence that had possessed Iroh to leave in the first place.

However, since Iroh had agreed to take his studies more seriously, Vailea was allowed to stay. Not because the Fire Lord took pity on the wild child, but because it was useful to have the means to blackmail. The possibility of Vailea's departure had inspired Iroh to arrive at his lessons on time, respect his superiors and follow the guidelines that had been set for him.

Iroh, of course, was miserable. He had no freedom, and his mind ached from the overload of lessons and commitments he was forced to attend. The only thing that kept him going was knowing that he was saving Vailea. As long as Iroh dedicated himself to his studies, Vailea would not be deported to her pervious home. Of course Iroh wasn't allowed to see her (this was part of their punishment), but knowing she was somewhere within the palace walls was comforting to him. They were best friends, and Iroh would be loyal to her.

It was going to be a full moon that night, but Iroh couldn't foresee any possibility of meeting Vailea in the garden. There were two guards at his door, and Madam Ima was only off delivering her hourly report. Iroh didn't see the point; he had been in his bedroom for the past three hours. He wasn't going to move. He did pace, however. He paced up and down; wondering how he could possibly get himself out of this predicament. But as he as thinking, a rock came through the window and hit Iroh in the head.

Iroh let out a quick yelp of pain before slamming a hand over his mouth. Luckily, the window was open and no glace had broken, but the rock hit him square in the back of the head. Iroh's ears were ringing as he made his way to the window to see who had thrown it. He had an idea. But Vailea's aim was awful, and there was no way she could have thrown a rock that would reach his bedroom.

Iroh looked down, and sure enough there was Vailea. It was hard to make out her face in the dark, but her bright pink robes were apparent even from a distance. Iroh waved, and noticed that there was another person with her. It was a guard—probably one whom Vailea had befriended. From a distance he appeared a young man, and probably inexperienced as a guard (this explained why he was foolish enough to let himself be manipulated by Vailea). Iroh saw her thank him before he ran back towards the entrance to the palace. Iroh didn't blame him. Anyone caught helping him would face some sort of severe punishment. Yet Vailea had convinced him to go against direct orders. She was a sly talker, but this was a trophy to her talents.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Iroh spun his neck around, which gave him whiplash. "Who is it?" He asked while simultaneously rubbing his neck and motioning down to Vailea to be quiet.

"Madam Ima," came the response. She knocked on the door again. "Iroh, open this door."

"Madam Ima I'm going to bed early tonight." Once again the lie flowed smoothly.

"Iroh I need to check on you one last time tonight. Your grandfather commands it."

Iroh reluctantly unhitched the door and Madam Ima came inside. "Well, everything seems to be in order here." She said, looking down at him. "Have you washed your face?"

"Yes, Madam Ima."

"Combed your hair?"

"Yes, Madam Ima."

"Brushed your teeth?"

"Yes, Madam Ima."

It took a lot of self control for Iroh not to sound urgent and annoyed. He wanted Madam Ima out of his room. "Anything else?" He asked in as respectful a voice as he could muster.

"No, I suppose not." She said, sniffing the air. "I'll alert the Fire Lord that you're in bed. Good night, Iroh." She shuffled out, and Iroh hastily closed the door after her.

When he returned to the window, Vailea was playing with bits of grass; weaving them together into a bracelet. "Lea," he called. For a moment Iroh considered dropping the rock down to get her attention, but he knew that comic effect would be outweighed by Vailea's anger. He didn't want her to leave. This was the first time they'd seen each other it what seemed like several avatar cycles. It felt validating to know that all his hard work was not in vein. Vailea was alive and well, and still living at the palace.

When Vailea finally looked up, she smiled broadly. With the grass bracelet wrapped around one hand, Vailea used the other to motion for him to come down. Come down? Was she joking? His bedroom wasn't in a tower, but it was still high enough to discourage any chance of escape. Iroh shook his head firmly. He hoped she understood why he couldn't go with her to their story tree. If the two were caught, Vailea would be banished.

She looked up at him slightly crestfallen. She plopped back down into the grass like a rag doll. Iroh hated being the responsible one, but the stakes were too high to risk an adventure. He watched Vailea fiddle with a few more pieces of grass. At least she wasn't leaving. He stared for a moment before realizing that Vailea was doing more than just fiddling with the grass. She had made a chain, a long one. She held it up above her head in triumph. Her lips moved, and Iroh struggled to read them in the darkness. "Make this" she said, pointing to the grass chain.

"What?" Iroh said in a loud whisper. He understood exactly what she meant. Vailea wanted Iroh to make a rope.

"Make it." She repeated again. Iroh knew Vailea, and he knew she was stubborn. Once she made up her mind there was very little one could do to change it. She wanted to come see him, and she would find a way. Of course Iroh also knew that Vailea was weak. It wasn't that she was fragile necessarily, but Vailea was small. She and Iroh spent a lot of time running around, but she still lacked the upper body strength needed to climb a wall.

Even so, Iroh began collecting materials from his room that would be suitable in making a rope. The bed sheets were an obvious choice. He remembered Vailea telling him a story that involved making a rope out of bed sheets and curtains. That was probably where she had gotten the idea in the first place. In the story however, the boy had been trying to escape out his window, not let someone in.

When Iroh had gathered enough cloth, he started tying the pieces together. He double tied and triple tied. He couldn't afford to let one knot undue itself and have Vailea fall like a rock down the side of the palace. There was a horrible image in his head of her motionless body below his window. He shuddered a bit at the thought.

After the rope was long enough, he called down to her. Vailea looked up expectantly, and Iroh began to lower down the rainbow of fabrics. Luckily, Iroh's bedroom was isolated near the library wing (his original sleeping quarters were closer to the other bedrooms, but Iroh had been moved in the hopes that it might encourage him to actually visit the library). Thus, there was a lesser chance that they would be caught by any human eyes. However, Iroh was more concerned that Vailea would miss the note he had bound to the end of the tail. It read '_tie this end around you, and I'll tie the other around the bedpost. I'll pull one end, and you climb the other.'_ This was his solution: they would work together.

Looking down the stone wall, Iroh was relieved to see the outline of the chain secure around Vailea's waist. She gave him the thumbs up signal, and Iroh began to pull. It was difficult at first, but Iroh braced his feet against the wall for support. Every time he gathered a yard of fabric, he would sit on it. This made it so he did not have to worry about loosing his grip and letting the extra line slip through his fingers. It was an innovative idea, but Iroh wasn't in the mindset to congratulate himself. He had one focus: get Vailea up the wall. Iroh closed his eyes to help with concentration.

This was one of those times that he was glad Vailea was so small. Iroh wasn't confident that he would be able to heave a full grown person through his window. Of course Iroh too was small, but he was gifted with the upper body strength typical of his sex. He was also lucky to inherit the broad shoulders that were dominant in his family. Now that he thought about it, Firebending practice had probably helped the most. It made him durable and strong. In fact, Iroh couldn't remember one training session where he didn't leave exhausted. He put his everything into Firebending, and he had the buckets of sweat to prove it.

As Iroh's mind wandered, he suddenly felt the rope lax. His heart skipped a beat. Eyes flashing open, his face darted up. There in the window—hair a mess and out of breath—was Vailea. Iroh sighed with relief. For a split second, he thought she had fallen. But, there she was. Somehow she looked different. Iroh convinced himself that it was because they had been apart for so long.

Wiping the sweat off her forehead, Vailea collapsed against Iroh's wall. She pulled her knees towards her face and brushed the long strands of hair out of her eyes. Iroh slid next to Vailea, and she smiled at him between breaths. In the midst of her exhaustion, she lunged at him—a customary greeting in Vailea-ism. She hugged him, and Iroh patted her back awkwardly.

"I—" (Gasp) "knew—" (Gasp) "we—" (Gasp) "could do it." She finished. Her smile radiated in triumph. Iroh couldn't help but be proud of her—of him—of them, they had accomplished it together.

"Well, it wasn't exactly climbing the wall of Ba-Sing-Se." Iroh said, sitting up straighter.

"Isn't it?" Vailea said, finally beginning to catch her breath.

"No," Iroh responded, but there was no real conviction in his voice. Vailea did this sometimes. She would ask questions, not because she wanted the right answer, but because she wanted to know _your_ answer. It always made Iroh feel like a bit of an idiot when he gave her lame, uncreative responses. "You can't climb the wall of Ba-Sing-Se. No one has ever gotten over, under or through it."

"That doesn't mean no one can." Vailea said, looking him dead in the eyes. "Has anyone ever climbed this wall?" She gestured behind her.

"Not that I know of."

"Didn't we just climb a previously un-climbable wall then?"

"I guess you can look at it that way." He said, still uncertainly.

"Everyone has their Ba-Sing-Se." Vailea continued. "If you have enough determination, you can get over it. That's why I'm glad you were on the other end of that rope. When you set your mind to it Iroh, you can accomplish a lot more than you think."

Iroh smiled genuinely.

"Alright," She began, and quiet, introspective Vailea was suddenly replaced by loud, obnoxious Vailea.

Without thinking, Iroh slapped his hand across her mouth. He had just remembered: there were guards outside. If they spoke too loudly, someone might hear. He was actually surprised no one had come storming in yet.

Vailea ripped Iroh's hand away from her face. Iroh expected that the area around her mouth might red from impact, but Vailea's whole face was glowing with animosity. This was not a good sign. "You NEVER hit a lady." She said forcefully, and there was more than a hint of anger behind her words. The tone in the room had suddenly changed. "I am not that stupid. I know there are guards outside, and I've already taken care of it." She continued, gathering her dignity.

"You have?" Iroh asked, clearly startled. Supposedly, Vailea was a pacifist. Hopefully this meant that she hadn't done anything that might have involved knives, spears or poison. "What exactly do you mean by 'taken care of'?" He asked suspiciously.

Vailea rolled her eyes. "It means I offered them tea. They're working long shifts protecting you, Iroh. I offered them tea to warm their hearts and bellies."

"What did this tea have in it?" Iroh asked, beginning to catch on.

"I have absolutely no idea. Head chef Ai happened to make two cups of tea, and I offered to take them to the guards. It is possible that those glasses may have been the ones she put the sleeping draught in, but you can never really tell with these things." Vailea was putting on a serious face, but she couldn't help letting a smile creep into the corners of her mouth.

"And when they wake up?" Iroh asked again. He was smiling too.

"They'll be fine. I know these guards. They're the henchmen mold. You know; big, brainless. I doubt they'll be able to make the connection between the tea and falling asleep. Besides, admitting they fell asleep while guarding the Firelord's grandson is like posting a sign on your chest that says 'Please Sir, I'd like to be tortured before I'm killed."

Iroh laughed.

"Don't." Vailea pointed a finger at him. "I'm still mad at you for slapping me. It's not very gentlemanly, you know. Girls don't like it."

Iroh made his Geisha pout again, and reached for the vase on the nearby table to slid a flower out (the flowers in question had been put there by the palace staff in an attempt to freshen his room). Iroh tucked the pink blossom behind her ear. Vailea was quick to anger, and quick to forgiveness. Iroh had learned how calm her. The trick was to get her laughing again.

Vailea felt the flower in her hair. She tried to look away from Iroh's Geisha pout, but she couldn't help laughing at it. "I know you didn't mean it." She said honestly. "As long as you're sorry--" Iroh made an exaggerated nodding motion. "—then I _guess_ I'll tell you the story I climbed Ba-Sing-Se to tell." Vailea tucked her legs together, and began.

And as her eyes became portals, Iroh almost forgot where he was. It didn't matter that he had become a prisoner in his own home. Tonight he was with Vailea. He wasn't locked in his room. He wasn't locked in the palace. He was only with Vailea, and for now that was enough.


	6. Exhibition

Just as Fire Nation girls had their 'Coming Out' ceremony at the age of 13, Fire Nation boys had their right of passage at 14. There had been a general consensus that boys reached maturity a bit later than girls; thus, it had been decided long ago that their introduction into society would be postponed a year after their sister's.

In the early days of the empire, Fire Nation boys had to endure a series of difficult tests to prove their manliness. However, these trials were eventually abandoned due to their high death rate. In modern times, the right of passage ceremony became more of an exhibition. The boy in question would demonstrate his talents to the court, who would then decide whether his abilities earned him passage into adulthood. The demonstration would always consist of two segments. The first of which was a simple test of the boy's firebending skill. The second displayed any other talent the child in question chose to demonstrate (usually prestige with weaponry).

The court still told stories of how Fire Lord Sozin and his son Azulon had both put on the finest exhibitions in living memory. As children, both demonstrated unparalleled skill in firebending, and remarkable talents in the weapon of their choice. Thus, expectations were high for the next male in the line of rulers. Prince Iroh had earned a reputation around the palace for being both an exceptional firebender, and a rebellious problem child. Consequently, many noblemen wondered if and how he would manage to upset the tradition.

Iroh knew this. He knew he was being gossiped about (even more than usual). He also knew that failing to astound the court would be a direct blow to his, and his family's honor. As a result, he had been practicing harder than ever before. He left training exhausted—emotionally, mentally and physically drained. His professors seemed to realize this, and took pity on him; easing the rigorousness of their lessons until after Iroh's exhibition. Unfortunately, this sympathy did not extend to Professor Lee, whose course load doubled as the other's shrunk.

As Iroh's stress levels mounted, he escaped the pressing reality by writing to Vailea. For a time they had managed to get away with pulling her up Ba-Sing-Se, but doing so was increasingly difficult. Madam Ima was becoming gradually more suspicious of the tea Vailea brought to the guards. She began to notice that they seemed to doze off more readily when Vailea came to visit. Hence Vailea and Iroh were forced to abandon the tradition.

However, after several weeks of Vailea withdrawal, Iroh was surprised to discover a note atop his pillow that read:

_Dear Iroh,_

_I hope the maid delivered this to you. I promised to start cleaning the east wing if she would act as messenger between us. Her name is Hong. You might have seen her before. She cleans your room in the middle of the week. _

_We can contact each other if you leave a note on your bed in the morning before leaving for your other commitments. She'll find it when she's making your bed, and she'll bring it to me. Write back soon so that I know you received the letter._

_Vailea_

Iroh wrote back immediately:

_Dear Storyteller,_

_I got your letter. I'm really happy the maid is willing to do this for us, and I'm sorry you have to clean the entire west wing. I miss you a lot. I wish I could help you. When my family decides to stop keeping me hostage, I'll make it up to you.Firebender_

It was simple and to the point. Iroh had never been much of a writer. He couldn't manipulate words the way Vailea could. But his constant study of battle strategies (another course his father added to the list of subjects his son was to be taught) had given him the idea to use code names. Generals often used codes when delivering important messages that could be intercepted by the enemy; in this case, the royal family.

At any rate, Iroh was happy to have any sort of communication with the world outside his studies. Vailea distracted him with her commentary on recent happenings around the palace, her thoughts on life and the snippets of stories that were often scribbled on the backs of her letters. Vailea even kept Iroh updated on the courtship between Ami and Chen; the two servants whom Vailea and Iroh had been watching for almost a year.

Vailea had been the first to point out their subtle glances at one another in passing. Ami was a new maid with a shy smile. Chen had worked at the palace since he was a boy; making money to help his family. Vailea delighted in chronicling their progress as friends, good friends and the possibility of something more. Despite his resistance, Iroh too became enthralled with their living love story. He had been taught that love stories were for women, and battle tales were for men. But he liked both. There was something about love stories with a happy ending that never failed to lighten his mood.

Once Vailea had written to him and asked:

_Do you think if they were from different nations, Ami and Chen could still have fallen in love?_

Iroh wrote back:

_I think it depends on which nations. _

These notes continued for a time. Gradually, Iroh's notes became longer as he tried to compete with the pages of calligraphy Vailea sent him. Every now and then, Iroh would even attach a poem to the back of his letters the way Vailea attached stories to the back of hers. They were by no means extraordinary literary masterpieces, but often humorous rhymes that entertained both the sender and receiver.

But as the months came and went, Iroh's letters were reduced to merely a few sentences. Training for his exhibition consumed all of his free time. The threat of dishonoring his family began to mount, and Iroh compensated by asking for more firebending lessons. He practiced fiercely; learning advanced sets and combinations quickly. He didn't have time for Vailea's 'Why' questions because what mattered most in firebending was 'How'. How could he force his opponent to the ground? How could he break their balance without loosing his own? Iroh considered every possible outcome in his mind before striking. He learned to breathe in a constant rhythm. His legs and arms would dance in tempo as his lungs filled and emptied to the same beat.

Iroh eventually employed his brother, Ozai as a practice partner. It was a choice made mostly out of convenience (Ozai trained at the same time as Iroh). However, the brothers had two very different fighting styles, which provided a challenge for Iroh. Just as he was known for his quick movements and strategic thinking, Ozai differed by using brute force and strength to extend the fire from his fingertips. Ozai's firebending was also wild; flashing out in many different directions. It took numerous lessons before Iroh realized that his brother's firebending was also powered by anger. More than once, Ozai enthused himself into a mad rage while bending. His firing became even more frenzied and hysterical. Iroh made a note to never loose control the way Ozai did. He wanted to control the fire; the fire did not control him.

"Prince Iroh," Madam Ima addressed him on the night of Iroh's exhibition. "Prince Iroh, it is time to address the court."

Iroh nodded appropriately. His heart was beating out of his chest. He would give anything to be a hundred miles away right now. Part of him wanted to run, but this part was greatly overshadowed by Iroh's sense of pride. Although he disagreed with, even disliked most of his family, he could not dishonor them. If the court did not deem him a man tonight, Iroh knew he never would be.

The stage was set when Iroh arrived in the elaborately decorated hall. The guests that had arrived were slowly making their way to their seats. They were lords and ladies; everyone of importance. Iroh walked in a dreamlike trance past them. He was careful not to make eye contact, but could not help noticing Vailea's father standing in the corner. General Junren wore a neutral expression, but when his eyes met Iroh's, he gave a small smile. Iroh only blinked. What business did General Junren have smiling at him? It was because of this man that Iroh was being held captive in his own home. He had half a mind to glare back at that contempt grin.

But by the time Iroh looked back, General Junren was already being chatted up by a young nobleman's daughter. He had stopped smiling.

As Madam Ima ushered Iroh to the stage, his hands trembled uncontrollably. His face was almost dripping with sweat after he realized that everyone had taken their seats and were staring directly at him. Madam Ima sighed as she pushed him onto the metal stage (wood was not considered a suitable building material for obvious, flammable reasons). Iroh stared down the isle the divided the rows of seats. His grandfather was at the right, looking serious and stern.

Iroh looked him in the eyes, waiting for the command.

"Why have you come?" Asked the Firelord, as he began the traditional pre-exhibition speech.

"I have come to ask permission." Iroh responded, and he tried not to let his voice break under the pressure.

"Permission to do what?"

"To become a man."

The Firelord paused. "We are the noble sons and daughters of fire. We are a proud nation, where only the strongest survive. If you are to become a man, you must first show us that you are worthy of the status."

Iroh nodded as was accustomed. The call and response had become a part of the exhibition tradition long ago. The idea being that boys must _ask_ to become a man—therefore initiating their own journeys into adulthood.

Iroh bowed again. He closed his eyes in concentration. He thought about his goal, he thought about what he needed to do to accomplish this goal. He thought about Vailea, and how much she hated firebending. With a quickened breath, Iroh pushed that particular thought out of his mind. He was not here to think about Vailea, he was here to firebend.

With a force that surprised even him, Iroh began the exhibition with a startlingly powerful fireblast. He dodged around the flames, in a combination that was almost more dance-like than it was defensive. His feet and hands moved to a rhythm. At one point, Iroh was meant to slide underneath his own fire. This move turned out to be an enormous crow pleaser, for it looked much more deadly than it actually was.

By the time Iroh finished, he was exhausted. But an enormous sense of relief swept over him as the lords and ladies clapped enthusiastically. Iroh looked down at his grandfather, whose facial expression had not changed. Iroh frowned at this, but immediately broke from his grandfather's gaze. _It's because he wants to wait until I'm finished. _Iroh told himself confidently. After all, the exhibition was not over.

Many in the crowd eagerly awaited the weapons portion of Iroh's performance. Some had speculated that the Prince might display his skill with a broad sword, or perhaps the duel swords. What they were not expecting however, was for Iroh to carry a Sungi Horn onto the stage. It had been Vailea's idea, actually. Once, Iroh had written to her complaining about his indecisiveness in choosing a weapon for the exhibition. Vailea, ever the pacifist, suggested that he display a non-violent talent. At first, Iroh had scoffed at this idea. He didn't have any other talents. But Vailea reminded him that Iroh took music lessons once a month (at request of his mother). She argued that if he were to practice, Iroh would be able to play a song by the time his exhibition came around. She was right.

The song Iroh chose to play was one that he and Vailea had written together through their notes. Iroh would write one line, and Vailea would write the next. At first it was just for amusement. But as the exhibition grew closer, Iroh still had not decided what weapon to demonstrate. Vailea had taken advantage of his panicked state and convinced him into playing the horn instead.

Draping his legs over the front of the stage, Iroh placed the horn on his lap. He took a deep breath; having one last look at the crowd that appeared more confused than anything else, he began to play. It was a cheerful tune, and simple to follow. Iroh closed his eyes so that he could not see the expressions of those in front of him. After the first several notes, Iroh took his lips off the horn and began to sing; tapping one hand on his leg to keep the beat.

_It's a long, long way to Ba Sing Se _

_but the girls in the city _

_they look so prett-ay_

Then Iroh resumed the melody with his instrument. He played another few lines of notes and continued.

_I found one on the wall_

_I couldn't let her fall_

_That beauty from Ba Sing Se _

A few people laughed. Some even began tapping the beat that Iroh had laid out for them. Iroh played another stanza before continuing.

_Would have loved to know her name_

_But I kissed her all the same_

_That girl from Ba Sing Se_

A ripple of laughter went through the crowed, and Iroh thought it was safe to open his eyes. To his amazement, they were all smiling. Even his grandfather's neutral expression seemed a bit softened. Iroh played his Sungi horn for another few notes before finishing.

_And they kiss so sweet_

_that you've really got to meet_

_the girls from Ba Sing Se!_

"Excellent job, Prince Iroh." Madam Ima's shrill voice was the first to greet him when the song was over, and Iroh was allowed to leave the stage. "We, as I am sure that many felt the same, were surprised to hear your charming love song. We most expected a deadly weapons display, but I am…" She babbled on a while.

Even though her voice was earsplitting, Iroh didn't care. It was over, and he could breathe a little bit easier.

"Prince Iroh," sounded a voice that made Iroh cringe.

"General Junren, how lovely to see you!" Sang Madam Ima. Even she was not resistant to the charm of the handsome General.

"May I speak with prince Iroh?" Ask General Junren, bowing curtly.

"Why of course!" Said Madam Ima, pushing Iroh forward.

"Alone," Added the General, and Madam Ima's smile withered a little.

"Oh, yes of course. Just be sure you direct him to the dinning hall as soon as possible. He is the guest of honor, after all." Madam Ima turned her nose up, and followed the crowed out the door.

"Iroh," began Junren, but he was cut off.

"What do you want from me?" Iroh's brashness surprised even him. You got me imprisoned. I don't know what you have to say to me, but I don't want to hear it." Iroh knew he sounded like a brat, but he didn't care. All the happiness that had elated him after the performance had suddenly disappeared.

"Iroh, I know you are angry with me. I understand why. But I just wanted to explain to you, why I did what I did. I didn't know they were going to be so harsh on you."

"Didn't know? My family is Fire Nation royalty, what did you think they would do to me? Lock me up in my room for a day to think about what I've done? No! They live for making people suffer."

General Junren chuckled. "Vailea was right; you do have a sense of humor about you."

And Suddenly Iroh softened. Vailea.

"She tells me how much she misses you." The General sat down in one of the empty chairs from the exhibition. "Of course she's just as angry with me as you are, maybe more." He sighed and scratched his chin. "Sit down." It sounded more like an invitation than an order. Iroh obeyed. "I'm not a huge stickler for the rules like you might think. I was actually pretty rebellious when I was your age." He nodded, and Iroh stayed silent. "I was just worried that Vailea was dragging you into some situations that just aren't safe for the heir to the Fire Nation throne."

"I hate that title." Said Iroh under his breath.

General Junren looked up. "She says you do. She says a lot about you actually. Apparently you're a pretty determined young man—you pulled her all the way up your outside wall."

Iroh's eyes darted up. He was terrified. Vailea had said something? Of all people, she had told _her father_. Was he going to use this knowledge for blackmail? Was he going to tell the Fire Lord? What other trouble could Iroh possibly get into?

"Don't worry, don't worry" said Junren in an assuring tone, after seeing the look in Iroh's eyes. "We tell each other everything, Vailea and I. In a family of two, you need to build that sort of trust." He paused. "When she told me, I figured I'd gotten you in enough trouble. I didn't want to alert the Fire Lord again. Of course I ordered Vailea to stop, but she didn't." He laughed again. "Sometimes, she is so like her mother. She was never one to be told what to do either."

Iroh met Junren's eyes again. "Please Sir, who is Vailea's mother?" He asked with genuine curiosity. Iroh had never spoken with Junren like this before. He was surprised how easy it was to get along with the man who had cursed him to live as a prisoner in his own home. Also, Junren was Vailea's father. It was possible he might be able to scrape together some more information about Vailea's past from him.

General Junren smiled, and his eyes seemed to gaze into a nonexistent horizon. "A beautiful woman, inside and out Vailea inherited her quick temper." He laughed. "Why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know. Vailea doesn't like to talk about her life before the palace." Iroh said, honestly.

"That's good. It isn't her place to be disclosing information like that." General Junren said quickly, as though he himself were beginning to question the little information he had given Iroh. "Iroh," He said. "I need you not to ask Vailea any more about where she lived, or who she was with before she came to live with me at the palace."

"Why?" Asked Iroh. General Junren must have been new at this game. If there's one way to make a person even more curious about something, it's to forbid it.

The General sighed. "Maybe one day I can tell you, but not now. Not when there's a war going on, and everyone is already on their toes."

"How long do you think the war is going to last?" Asked Iroh, seriously.

General Junren laughed. "You're that eager to know? Well, I would predict that a war of this magnitude will probably last a long time. In fact, you'll probably get a chance to fight—if you ever choose to become a General."

"Do you think I could?" Iroh asked a little go eagerly. "Be a general, I mean." The thought had crossed his mind more than once. It was typical for Fire Nation royals to also be officers in the military. But Iroh was worried that his parents might hold the privilege over his head if his studies did not improve.

"Of course, you will. I don't know how the military would deny you. You're the best Firebender of your age that I've seen in years." General Junren smiled genuinely. "If you're worried though, I could train you."

"I've already got plenty of teachers." Iroh blurted out before he could stop himself.

Junren smiled. "For strategic thinking and firebending yes, but being a General is much more than that. "It's combining everything you know and everything you might know into one movement. Being a General entails much more than they could ever teach you." He said, and his face grew stern for a moment, but quickly softened again when he added "If you trained with me, I could bring along Vailea."

**Authors Note**: (At least read the second paragraph below) Bleh. I'm so sorry guys. You've waited for this chapter and when you get it, there's almost no Vailea. It's kind of a weird chapter anyway. In any case, I DO HAVE A REASON that I haven't updated in about a million years. My school decided that 6 hours of sleep was wayyyyy too much for someone my age. In order to cut down on the time, they've given me more homework than I can possibly do so that I'm up late. Ok, so that was my little pity party. But really, I would have updated had there been more time. Once school ends I'll be updating a lot more (will the story be long enough that I'll keep writing it over the summer?) Anyway, sorry this chapter was kind of boring. I swear there is going to be LOTS of Vailea in the next chapter! I just needed a transition, and I kind of liked writing the Ba Sing Se song (like the six lines that I actually did write).

OH! One more thing, the idea that boys have their coming of age ceremony after girls isn't me being sexist. Jews do the same with Bar and Bat Mitzvah's. It used to be that boys had theirs later because apparently girls mature faster or something. I just thought it would be funny. DON'T HATE THE PLAYER HATE THE GAME.


	7. The Dragon in the Tree

"Alright, let's try again. You have a several platoons under your command. Each unit has around 100 men each. Four of the platoons are experienced soldiers. One is entirely new recruits. You're superiors want you to take the city by nightfall, and your informants tell you that the enemy plans to attack from the west. Give me your options." General Junren leaned back in his chair and peered at Iroh with genuine interest.

This was the third class they had had together, and General Junren had already proven himself to be a better teacher than half the diploma flaunting professors Iroh had been forced to tolerate in the past. Of course General Junren had a bit of an unconventional teaching style. During their first lesson, he had run headfirst at Iroh with a spear in one hand shouting _'Think on your feet!'_ Iroh had reacted automatically; sending a fireball hurtling at his teacher. Luckily, the surprise had affected his aim, and Iroh's fireball flew past Junren's ear; striking the stone wall behind them. This was the first time Iroh was introduced to the other side of General Junren. His public persona was a carefully sculpted model of a palace General and nobleman, while his private self was much more eccentric and exhibited traces of Vailea. Iroh was beginning to understand why she was so fond of him.

"Options," Iroh repeated more to himself than to anyone else. "We're going to have to protect the new recruits, obviously. We can't leave them dangling in the wind." General Junren nodded as Iroh said this. One of the lessons Iroh had learned from his teacher was the role of compassion in the war. Iroh had never been a cruel boy, but it was reassuring to know how a real General felt about the cost of human life. _'A platoon on the field has dozens, even hundreds of boys in it. These are boys with families and lives at home. They're people, not Pai Sho pieces.'_

"What do you think the best course of action is, then?" Asked General Junren; still eying Iroh with curiosity.

"I think if the enemy is attacking from the west, we should travel east and swing around south to take the city from behind." Iroh said. It was times like these Iroh realized how much he needed General Junren's classes. The strategy classes assigned by his father only outlined the strategies used by past Generals. Iroh had never before been asked to come up with his own strategies so quickly. It required more creativity than Iroh had expected.

"You plan to transport several hundred men in a semicircle before nightfall?" Asked General Junren; sliding his elbow onto the table while resting a hand under his chin.

"Ah," Said Iroh tapping his fingers nervously. "Well, I guess not. Can I call for reinforcements?" He asked.

"Yes, but they might not get there in time."

"Can I at least send spies out?"

"Sure, if you want to risk them getting captured."

Iroh made a frustrated noise in his throat. "What if I sent for the special platoon?"

"The special platoon?" General Junren asked; raising an eyebrow.

"You know, isn't that what they call it now? I heard Chef Ai talking angrily about it once. The special platoon is what they call the prostitutes who follow selected platoons to keep them…er…happy."

General Junren stayed silent for a whole thirty seconds, and then burst out laughing. "And what do you plan on having the special platoon do once they reached the enemy?" He asked in good humor.

"Keep them distracted." Said Iroh simply, but he cracked a smile.

General Junren lowered his head into his hands, but when he looked up he was smiling. His fingers were in front of his mouth to keep from laughing. "You've got imagination, Iroh." He said with a smile. "And I think that's enough studying for this lesson. Vailea will be waiting for you in the garden."

"And I'm allowed to you meet her?" Iroh asked, almost flabbergasted. Even after his success at the exhibition, his family had decided to keep him imprisoned—just for good measure.

"The Fire Lord's orders actually," responded Junren. "He said that if your lesson went well, I could reward you with some fresh air."

"Fresh Air!" Shouted Iroh. "Are you sure it still exists? I haven't experienced it in so long…" He trailed off for a minute, letting everything sink in. It had been months since he'd walked outside; even longer since he'd visited the story tree. The two seemed to belong in different worlds than the one he was living in now. In the grand scheme of things, very little time had passed since his last visit with Vailea in the magical world they had created for themselves. But in Iroh's short life, several months was enough to separate the man from the boy.

General Junren laughed again. "I can assure you, Prince Iroh. The great outdoors is just how you left it. In fact, Vailea promises me she has not visited your story tree since the two of you left it." He smiled.

Iroh sometimes forgot that General Junren was so involved in the life of his daughter. Vailea told him everything (including news of their story tree, apparently), and Iroh was not sure how he felt about it. On one hand, General Junren had been the catalyst that condemned him to many months of solitude within the palace. On the other hand, Vailea trusted him—which should make him trustworthy. Iroh had weighed this in his mind many times since General Junren first unveiled the open relationship he and his daughter shared.

Then of course there was jealousy factor. Iroh knew it was selfish, but he was jealous of how much Junren knew about Vailea. Obviously they were family; knowing about his daughters past was to be expected. But Iroh still wished that he too could learn the secrets that Vailea kept from him.

"Oh, and Iroh" Junren stopped him as he was walking out the door. "Be kind to Vailea tonight."

Iroh just paused. _When was he ever not kind to Vailea?_ "Alright," he said uncertainly. "Any specific reason?"

"She's just worried" said Junren in a calm voice. "She's finally decided to show you something—it's something she's been struggling with for a long time."

"What is it?" Iroh asked instinctively. His tone was concerned, but a part of him couldn't help but feel excited. Vailea was going to let him into her secret world. She was finally going to tell him something about herself.

"She'll show you," Junren's voice was still calm. "She'll probably be angry that I've told you this much before she could herself, but I thought it best to prepare you. Vailea, if you haven't noticed, is rather more secretive than the rest of us. She's tentative about sharing parts of herself before the time is right. So, I just want you to remember, everything she does she does for a reason. She wasn't ready to share this part of herself before tonight, and I hope you won't be too hard on her."

Iroh nodded and tried to act indifferent, but his insides were doing summersaults. "Alright, I won't be."

"Thank you," General Junren smiled sadly. "I'm not sure she's ready to share this with anyone yet, but she convinced me that you will understand… I will see you next lesson, Prince Iroh." As he guided Iroh out the door, Junren squeezed his shoulder in a reassuring way.

Iroh looked at him. Up close, Iroh noticed the worry lines digging into the handsome General's face. His eyes were a little dimmer these days, and his smile a little more faded. His hair, though much darker than Vailea's, was just as unkempt. Even tied back, more than a few loose strands had found their way out of his topknot. And as door closed, Iroh could have sworn he noticed a few gray hairs among the black.

Making his way through the palace, Iroh was greeted with more amiable glances than usual. The exhibition had won him prestige among the nobles. Many liked to pretend that they had always been on his side. Iroh caught phrases like _'I always knew he was special'_ or '_Professor Lee and I have been telling you all for so long—this Prince is a protégée' _as he wandered through the hallways. Iroh could tell some were trying to gain his favor. Perhaps they expected that in fifteen years time, he would actually remember their empty compliments.

Chef Ai, who was always the first to know the secrets and whispers of the palace, told Iroh that his musical performance had won him favor among the young ladies of the court. The daughters of noblemen now swayed in his presence. Iroh had no interest in these spoiled socialites who cared more about the latest in Fire Nation fashion than any sane person should.

When he finally reached the garden, Iroh was greeted by a group of giggling girls. Some looked like they had spent days doing their hair and makeup. "Prince Iroh," one broke from the crowd and tiptoed daintily towards him. She looked the most foolish. Her eyelids were smothered in blue eye shadow, and some of her red lipstick had brushed across her teeth; giving her the attractive just-punched-in-the-mouth look that was so fashionable these days.

"Hello," said Iroh, as politely as he could. He wasn't in the mood to deal with them now.

The girl giggled. "Let me be the first to say how marvelous your exhibition was. The performance was so romantic." She swayed for a moment.

"Thank you." Iroh bowed as was accustomed. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who finds incinerating blocks of wood with firebending pretty romantic," he said sarcastically, and then walked away.

Although he had not been to the story tree in ages, it was not difficult to find. The large tree was in the center of the orchard, and the knobs in the bark seemed to be getting bigger. "Lea," Iroh called when he did not see her. "Lea are you here?" An orange dropped on his head to answer him.

"Iroh!" Came a voice from above. And before he could blink, Vailea had jumped off a branch; knocking him over completely. Oranges spilled everywhere. "You're here!" She said, falling to the ground to hug him. Iroh hugged back. "I didn't hit you too hard did I?" She asked, and Iroh couldn't help being reminded of the first time the two of them had met. He had run head on into Vailea, and she had laughed.

"No, no I'm fine." He said, rubbing his head. "What are all the oranges for?"

"Tea!" Vailea shouted excitedly. "Chef Ai just taught me how to make the most delicious tea you've ever tasted. Oranges are one of the ingredients," She said, rounding up all the oranges that had rolled away. "And where could you find better oranges than in the story tree?" She asked animatedly.

"Nowhere!" Iroh responded, feeding off of Vailea excitement. It was hard not to be enthusiastic when she was there.

"Take this," she ordered, handing him a teacup. Darkness was falling, but Vailea had already started a fire. She slid a bag out of her pocket and scattered some shredded leaves into a teapot.

"I didn't know you knew how to start fires." Iroh said. Since most everyone in the Fire Nation was, or at least knew, a firebender, building fires out of other materials was a skill only other cultures practiced. "Did you bring some flint?"

"No," Vailea said in a smaller voice; hanging the teapot above the fire.

"Oh," he said simply. When silence followed, Iroh wondered if he should ask Vailea about her secret. "Lea, is there something wrong?" He asked, trying not to sound too eager.

She was silent. Iroh watched her from across the fire. He could see Vailea's fingers twitch nervously, but her hair fell over her eyes; making her facial expression unreadable. Whatever she wanted to tell him, it must be big. She probably hadn't expected him to ask about her secret. Maybe he had done something wrong. As Iroh waited, he watched the fire. The flames danced in the darkness; making shapes and symbols around the teapot. But as he stared, Iroh noticed a distinct figure form within the flames. As his eyes adjusted, he could see a dragon; a little, blazing dragon made of fire was flying above the teapot.

"Vailea," He whispered. "Vailea, what did you put in that tea? Vailea look at this!" But then Iroh stopped. Vailea's hair was still in her eyes, but now she was looking up. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. "Vailea what's—" But that's when he noticed it. Vailea fingers were still moving, and both hands stirring to the same rhythm. She raised them, and the fiery dragon obeyed; soaring a few feet upward and then plunging into the bonfire as Vailea's hands dropped to the grass.

Iroh's heart stopped. He forgot to breath. The teacup that had been so tightly grasped in his hand fell to the soft earth below. "Vailea," He whispered hoarsely. He had to force his voice just to say her name. "Do—do you mean to tell me that you are a firebe—bender?"

It was like his stomach had just dropped out of his body. His heart has resumed beating, and was racing out of control. Everything he had ever thought, he had ever known about Vailea rushed through his mind at lightning speed. He didn't know how to act, or even how to feel. Every fiber in his body was stinging with rage. She was a firebender. How was that even possible? All the lectures, the warnings and the stories about the dangers of firebending…what did they mean now? "You're a Firebender!" He shouted into the flames. His voice was coming back to him, and he wanted to use it.

But then Iroh looked at Vailea. She wasn't just crying now; she was sobbing with her hands covering her face. She was shaking; her little body was curled into a ball. Some of Iroh's rage softened, but was replaced by questions. "Why?" Was all Iroh could manage to say. "I don't understand."

Vailea rocked back and forth; refusing to lift her hands from her face. "I'm sorry. I—I wanted to tell you—but—but I couldn't." Her voice was shaking even more than her body. A part of Iroh wanted to reach out and comfort her; hold her, be the strong one for once. But enough rage was still bubbling that it held him back.

"Why?" He repeated again. His voice was strong. It was one thing to keep something this big from him; to not even tell your best friend that you were a firebender, but Vailea being a firebender seemed to break some natural law. The universe had shifted, and Iroh was still trying to find his footing.

"I couldn't, I just couldn't" Vailea mumbled the way people often do when they cry. Her words ran into each other. She wasn't thinking straight. Iroh knew if he was going to get any response out of her, it wouldn't be while she was sobbing.

"Lea," He said, forcing his anger down. He walked around the fire and sat next to her. "Vailea," Iroh said her name again. He pulled her towards him, and she didn't pull away. Stroking her hair, he sighed and said "Its okay," when it really wasn't. Iroh breathed in and out to a steady rhythm; hoping that Vailea's breathe might slow down if she could follow his.

"I shouldn't have shown you." Vailea murmured.

"No." Iroh said firmly, remembering what Junren had told him. Vailea trusted him enough to share this secret with him. It was one of the first big secrets she had ever shared, and look how he had responded. "I'm glad you shared this with me." Iroh said honestly, and he pulled her tiny hands into his own. "Vailea, thank you" Iroh squeezed her hands. He never noticed what tiny little hand she had. They were soft, but wet from when she had used them to try and stop the flow to tears. "Vailea I'm sorry I acted the way I did. I was just surprised."

Vailea let out something between a laugh and a cough. "I thought you would be surprised," she said in a still small voice. "I knew you would be angry too, and I deserve it." Iroh had nothing to say to this. Part of him wanted to say _'no Vailea, you don't deserve it'_, but he was still angry enough to let her feel guilty.

When he didn't respond, Vailea nuzzled her head under his chin. She curled her knees to her body and leaned against his chest. Her breathing had steadied, and the two of them breathed to the same beat. "You are my best friend," She whispered. "And I love you."

Twenty minutes ago this comment would have made Iroh grow ten feet, but things were different now; they were different now. Iroh, even at the age of fourteen, loved Vailea more deeply than any person he had ever know. She meant the world to him, and he to her. But she had lied to him. Vailea had never said she wasn't a firebender, but the universe had always pointed in that direction. "Vailea," He whispered back. "I want to tell you a story."

She looked up at him. Her eyelashes had clumped together in little triangles, but at least she had stopped crying. "Alright," she said.

"But you need to help me." Iroh said. He wanted to bring Vailea out of her shell, and stories were the best way to do this. Naturally, he still longed to ask her so much; he wanted her to explain, but now was not the time.

"Yes, I will Iroh," She murmured; sitting up. Her face was stronger now, more determined. Iroh could see bits of the strong, independent Vailea shinning through.

"You're going to need to firebend though," he said; not meeting her eyes, but Iroh could feel Vailea's confusion that seemed to ask _why_.

"If you can make a dragon out of fire, you can make anything. I'm going to tell a story, and you're going to bend it." Iroh's voice had more authority than it ever had before. "You're a firebender now, and you can't keep denying that part of yourself." He turned Vailea to face the fire. He took her hands and his, and mimicked her bending the flames.

Vailea laughed a little. She took a cloth out of her pocked, and leaned over the flames to pick up the teapot. She put the cloth on the handle, as not to burn herself, and drew it towards them. Vailea poured some of the tea into a cup and handed it to Iroh. "Drink this; I made it especially for you."

"I don't really like tea."

"You'll like this tea."

"Is it the kind you gave to my guards?

Vailea laughed and shook her head, still holding out the cup for him. Iroh looked at it, and drank the tea in one gulp. It was delicious, and Iroh's mood immediately lifted.

"You like it?" Vailea asked; sweeping pieces of hair out of her eyes.

Iroh swirled the tea leaf residue at the bottom of the cup for a minute. "I've never had tea like this before" he said simply and honestly.

Vailea smiled. "Does that mean you want some more, Prince Iroh?"

"Well of course, _Madam_ Vailea." She rarely called him 'Prince', and Iroh wasn't sure he liked it. But Vailea giggled, and poured him some more tea.

"Get ready." Iroh ordered, drinking the tea and moving to the other side of the fire. "How long have you been bending?" Iroh asked.

"Since I was nine," Vailea said sheepishly.

Iroh might have acted more surprised had all his energy not been used up from the previous shock of the evening. "This should be easier for you then," he said; gesturing to the fire.

"Well, I haven't practiced in years. My father offered to teach me, but I couldn't…" She said; trailing off again.

"That's fine!" Iroh said hurriedly. He didn't want Vailea to slip back into the crying cycle again. He tried to draw her back out. "Just focus on the flames, let them become a part of you." He felt like one of his teachers. "I'll tell the story, and you illustrate it."

Vailea nodded, and put her hands into position.

"You're going to need to sit up straighter if you want more control." Iroh said instinctively.

She laughed and said "Well aren't you a good teacher." Iroh laughed too.

He gave her a half smile and began. "Once, there was a…tree." And as he said this, a tree (or something that looked at least somewhat like a tree) appeared in the flames.

"Sorry," Vailea said. "Like I said, I haven't practiced."

"Really, it's fine." Iroh assured her. This storytelling business was much harder than he had anticipated, and he had barely started. "But this tree, like any tree, began as a little tree." Suddenly the tree in the flames shrunk to a little, fat, stumpy evergreen. The both chuckled. Iroh took another swig of tea "And all the animals were drawn to it because the tree was so welcoming." Iroh watched as all manner of forest creatures danced around the stumpy evergreen in the fire. He wondered if trees could be welcoming, but he continued anyway. "Squirrel Birds climbed its branches, Fox Antelope danced around its trunk, even fish from the river loved to jump up to say hello." Iroh paused to watch Vailea struggle with creating the elaborate scene in the fire. "Try using your palms if you want to move all the creatures together" he recommended.

Vailea followed his suggestion, and the scene suddenly became less hectic. "You're such a good firebender," she said.

Iroh smiled. "I've only been practicing most of my life. Anyway, as I was saying, the tree was very popular. As time went on, it grew bigger. Its branches reached to the sides, and its roots spread all around." The fire tree expanded, and Vailea elongated the branches and roots. "And as the reputation of the tree spread, so did its popularity. Pretty soon, there were hundreds of animals living around the tree. Even predators could live in harmony with their food source. It was just that somehow, when everyone was surrounding the tree, the world became more balanced. All the animals loved the tree because it was funny and—" Iroh was about to continue but Vailea cut him off.

"The tree had a friend who was a dragon." Vailea's fire dragon returned to the flames; flying around the evergreen. "The tree had seen many dragons before, when the tree lived in another forest. But this dragon was different. It was a kind, good, wonderful dragon. It breathed fire yes, but never to harm the innocent. You see, when the tree lived in another forest, legions of dragons had come. They had come in a wave of fire and terror. They had burned down everything in their paths. But somehow, the tree, who was small and frightened at the time, managed to escape. The tree was taken to live in another forest." Vailea was speaking quickly now, and Iroh had easily stepped down from the position of storyteller.

"The new forest was beautiful. It was so full of life that the tree could not help but spread and become a part of its new home. All the animals made the tree feel welcome, but the tree never felt completely safe, that is, until the tree met the dragon." Vailea smiled faintly and continued. "At first, the tree was afraid of the dragon. It feared that the dragon might turn into something hideous and engulf the forest just like the bloodthirsty dragons that had consumed the tree's old home. But the tree was wrong.

This new dragon was unlike any dragon the tree had ever met. He was kind and compassionate and a wonderful dragon. The dragon was so beautiful in so many ways…but the tree was selfish. The tree loved the dragon so much, and feared that it might someday become like the dragons that had set the tree's old forest ablaze. So the tree tried to suppress the dragon. The tree tried to force it to be something it was not, to stop it from being a dragon. But the tree was foolish. You see, there are many kinds of dragons, just like there are minds kinds of trees. Just because a dragon breaths fire, does not mean the dragon is bad. It just means that dragon is being a dragon."

"But," Iroh interrupted "Wasn't the tree, also a dragon?"

Vailea smiled faintly. "The tree was a dragon in disguise. Once, it had been a dragon in the forest. It was, in fact, the only dragon in its old forest. But the dragon was afraid to be different. So the dragon covered itself with bark, and pretended to be another tree in the forest. When the horrible, savage dragons came, the dragon hiding in the tree swore it would never come out again. It could never become like those dragons that had destroyed its home."

Again Iroh interrupted. "But then wasn't the dragon in the tree punishing itself for a crime it did not commit?"

Vailea didn't answer. She just looked at Iroh; her eyes were big and almost vacant. Suddenly, she stood up and walked to the other side of the fire. She lowered herself down next to Iroh. "You've changed my life in so many ways, you know. I used to think that all firebenders were bad, and that I was bad for being one. But when I met you, it was like a veil was lifted. You showed me that I could stop hiding, that I could be a firebender without being a monster." She continued softly. "To me, you are everything that is beautiful and wonderful in firebending." She paused. "You are everything that is beautiful and wonderful in the world." And then, without warning, she kissed him.

**Author's Corner**: It is the chapter that never ends, and it goes on and on my friends. Honestly though, this was a very long chapter, but it killed me to cut any more of it out than I already did. So I kept it long. I don't want to say much about this chapter yet, I'll let you guys stew on it for a while. I'll update with more as soon as I can. Also, review (many thanks to those of you who have been reviewing)!


	8. Mixed

Iroh stood outside her door. His heart was beating out of his chest. But, as any bystander would have observed, there was absolutely nothing frightening about this hallway. In fact, it was vacant. There were no guards here, no maids, no Madam Ima screaming "Young Master Iroh! You must come down for dinner!"—no one lingered long in this part of the palace. The halls didn't echo with the sound of busy footsteps. The silent corridors did not fit Vailea at all.

Iroh thought of all the times she had waited outside his door; braving the unfriendly guards and the scolding of his governess. She had never complained. She had only smiled and laughed and asked him to come with her to the gardens or to the kitchen or anywhere and everywhere.

Yet now, as Iroh stood in front of her door with no guards and no Madam Ima, he was scared. Sure, hurling a fireblast at him was no problem, but this…Iroh hesitated from knocking; letting his fingers grace the wooden door without making the finite hit against it. He told himself he was being stupid—worse than stupid, he was just being irrational. They didn't know. He had given them no reason to suspect anything, but somehow word might have gotten out.

The truth was that Vailea was no longer his best friend; there was a silent understanding that they had become something more. No conversations had been exchanged on the matter, only unspoken words. When Vailea had kissed him that night, everything they were had somehow flipped. He was ecstatic. She was his, and he was hers. They were no longer just Iroh and Vailea, best friends and palace brats. They had instead become Iroh and Vailea, an item.

Needless to say, both Vailea and Iroh were hiding their relationship from Iroh's family. The royals had arranged him to marry the spoilt child of a nobleman; one with several hundred acres to her name, mountains of treasures and who dressed and looked like a porcelain doll. It was a girl Iroh had never met, and had no interest in meeting.

Vailea had even promised him she would not tell her father. It was not that Iroh didn't trust the general, but measures had to be taken in this situation. Even Chef Ai, the great secret keeper of the palace underground, was being kept in the dark. Iroh and Vailea were still worried. Chef Ai was a master of these things. She could predict a relationship before those involved even had an inkling. Iroh remembered the conversation he had had with Chef Ai in the kitchen years ago.

Taking a deep breath, he tapped the door. Quickly, his eyes darted from side to side. There was still no one there. Refocusing on the door handle, he watched it turn.

"Iroh!" Vailea smiled and threw her arms around him. She looked the same as she always did; hair a mess and wearing her bright pink robes. Iroh smiled back. "Come in, come in," she said, ushering him out of the hallway.

Vailea's room was small. Without a title to her name, Iroh knew why she had been given housing in the maid's corridors. But the walls were decorated, and the one window was thrown open; painting the room with light. "You've changed that wall," Iroh observed; pointing to the pictures across from her bed. They were images of men and women Iroh did not recognize; their pictures surrounded by calligraphy detailing their appearance and last citing.

"They're WANTED posters." Vailea explained proudly.

"Wh—Why do you have wanted posters?" Iroh asked skeptically. In truth it didn't surprise him, nothing did anymore.

"I want to know who is out there…just in case." Vailea said vaguely.

"In case what?"

"They'll be useful contacts if ever we decide we need some back up. I want to know who I should be on the lookout for if ever I meet them."

"This is your idea of back up?"

"Sure," Vailea countered. "It's always good to have contacts from all different kids of people. Look," she gestured to one poster. "This man is a waterbender. He is accused of war crimes because he helped free dozens of water tribe prisoners. If we ever get in a jam, I think it's useful to know somebody who can break fire nation locks."

Iroh shook his head. "That's so like you." He said. "You're making friends with the enemy."

"Who said they were the enemy?" She asked, firing up. But Iroh only shrugged.

"You're father is a general you know. Don't you think it's a bit counterintuitive for you to be making friends with characters like that?"

"I'm in a relationship with a Fire Nation prince." She said, picking up his hand. "I think that's more startling." Vailea wrapped her fingers around his, and she nuzzled into his neck.

Iroh's heart started beating, and suddenly he remembered why he had been worried in the first place. "Vailea," he began, and for a second his mind weighed whether or not he should actually say anything. "I think they know."

Vailea lifted her head up. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow at him. "They don't suspect anything." Vailea said in a monotone, but only because she had said it many times before. "Iroh I've _told_ you, they don't suspect anything. You're being paranoid."

"I really don't think I am." The prince looked down at his hands; playing with his fingers nervously. "Vailea, if they ever found out…I don't think they'd let you stay at the palace." Iroh looked at her big brown eyes. They were startlingly intense—she was looking _through_ him again.

"Iroh," she cocked her head to the side while simultaneously setting her jaw. "Is this your way of telling me you want to just be friends again?"

"NO," Iroh said quickly; trying to recover and explain himself. He felt awkward. Iroh had never been the best at explaining his feelings. That was Vailea's turf; through her stories and cryptic messages she always managed to get the point out. "I just—there have been so many times you were almost taken away…I don't want this to be the last straw."

Vailea paused for a moment, and then laughed. "Like I said, you're being paranoid. We're acting the way we always do. By being worried you're acting differently, and drawing more attention to us." She brought her head back up to his level, and kissed him on the cheek. "Come on," Vailea smiled. "Let's go to the bazaar."

"Erm," Iroh interrupted, remembering the last time they had been to the marketplace.

"Oh—right." Vailea said, noticing his facial expression. "Don't worry, I've already run it by Madam Ima. She said it was fine. Of course, she was so busy trying to catch the boys who had written profanities on the wall that I'm not sure she was all that ready to scold us as well." She gave a mischievous smile.

As the two found their way out of the palace, Iroh made a point of keeping a two foot wall of air between him and Vailea. Sure, he was being paranoid. But if anyone saw them displaying any signs of a relationship, it would spread around the palace faster than a wildfire. Vailea seemed to notice this and said "I swear I'm not contagious."

Iroh rolled his eyes and gave her a look, and the two of them walked out of the palace. Once outside, the wind caught them off guard. It whipped their hair across their faces. Iroh instinctively brushed his out of his eyes. His black hair was so messy anyway; all he needed was a wind storm to blow everything out of place. Of course Vailea had much more hair than Iroh, but she let it waft around her face as it came out of the loosely tied bun. Automatically, Iroh leaned in to tuck some behind her ears. But as soon as he realized what he was doing, Iroh pulled back to reform the two foot barrier between them.

Vailea rolled her head back and said exasperatedly "we're outside, Iroh. No one from the palace is going to see us here. They would never be caught mingling with the common folk." She pursed her lips and looked at him. "And for future reference, girls don't like it when you act like they're some sort of leper."

"I don't think that at all!" Iroh protested, but he kept the distance. "I just think Fox Antelopes who show off their pelts are the ones who get shot."

"So I'm just a pelt, am I?" She asked, and Iroh couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

"No! Lea, you know I don't think that." Iroh tried to get a look at her face to see if she was being serious or not, but there was still enough hair in her eyes to hide the expression. But when she finally looked up at him, she was smiling.

"Don't get you're bun in a twist. I was only kidding. Holy spirits, you can be so serious sometimes. It's like you've got two people in one—serious Iroh, and goofball Iroh." She broke the invisible barrier, and locked her fingers with his. She swung their arms together, and kicked up dust with her sandals. "When did you become a poet anyway; using analogies like that?"

Iroh looked at their hands for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to break loose. "I guess having my room so close to the library had some effect after all." He said; keeping their hands interlocked. "I've been reading a lot more lately."

Vailea seemed satisfied. "Well you'll have to share with me more of the wisdom you learn, Master Iroh." She said playfully, and began to skip into the bazaar.

The center of town was buzzing with business, as usual. There were fisherman unloading their boats; merchants bargaining with customers. Everyone was completely enthralled with what they were doing at that moment. So enthralled in fact, that no one stood still long enough to notice the fire nation prince holding hands with a mysterious girl; well, almost no one.

"Lea!" A man called out from across the way. Iroh looked up at him. He was a balding man, overweight and bubbling with a big mouth and an even wider smile. Vailea dragged Iroh towards him.

"Kisho!" She called back. Iroh wondered for a moment when Vailea had time to meat this merchant. But his mind settled with the conclusion that Vailea was too friendly not to make friends with everyone she came across. She must have visited the bazaar without him while he had been serving the prison sentence in his own home. It had not even occurred to Iroh that just because he had been locked in the palace for what seemed like an entire lifetime; it didn't mean Vailea had barricaded herself in as well. Iroh took a second to ponder what other things he had missed sharing with Vailea.

"My little babbling brook, how have you been?" Kisho drew Vailea into a bear hug, and her little arms could barely reach around his enormous waistline.

"I've been fine, Kisho. How about yourself? How is business?" She asked with genuine interest.

"Oh it's been fine." He said unconvincingly. Leaning closer, he whispered to Vailea. "I've been experiencing a bit of discrimination here and there. Now that the war has escalated to the point it has, there are a few who refuse to shop at my stall."

"Why?" Iroh interrupted. "What's wrong with you—er—if you don't mind me asking." He added awkwardly.

Kisho looked at him, as if noticing Iroh for the first time. "Spirits boy, you're the prince aren't you?" Kisho backed away instinctively, and bowed.

"Kisho stand up," Vailea urged him. "We don't want to draw too much attention—forgive me for not introducing him, this is Iroh."

"You're highness," Kisho began, but Iroh cut him off.

"That's my father's name. You can call me Iroh." And he said it with more force than had meant to.

The merchant looked up at him with a peculiar look in his eye. I was as if he was sizing him up; studying Iroh from the inside out. It was not until several painful seconds later that Kisho said "so you are" and straightened up.

"Please" Iroh added. "In the bazaar, I'm just another customer." He said it confidently, meaning every word. He still felt the need to leave the prince behind in the palace so that Iroh could come into his own. The bazaar had its own rhythm; its own feeling. This was no place for royalty. Everyone was equal if they had wits enough to bargain. It was no wonder Vailea spent so much time here.

Kisho paused a moment, and then laughed. "Well, well boy. I suppose you're right. Vailea," she said; turning to her "this boy has a good head on his shoulders."

Vailea beamed. Inside the palace Vailea was his secret, but outside he was hers. Iroh deducted that she must have made friends with many of the merchants throughout the bazaar, and probably many of the sketchy traders who came from distant shores. It was funny. Even in the midst of a war, money had its own life. People would risk the enemy waters for a chance to sell their goods. In fact, many of the wanted men and women on Vailea's wall had probably found passage through a trade ship. It was likely that she already had connections with these underground criminals.

"Anyway," he continued. "As I was saying, there has been a bit of a reaction to the latest proclamation from the Fire Lord."

"Proclamation?" Iroh asked, and he was ashamed of his own ignorance. But he had asked before he had time to think.

"The one that says: all residents of the Fire Nation who are not of pure Fire Nation blood are hereby recorded as enemies of the state." Kisho said sadly. "I've lived here all my life, but just because my father happened to be Water Tribe…" He trailed off, and began sorting through his money nervously.

Vailea looked sick, and Iroh assumed she was reacting to the obvious injustice of it all. He patted Kisho consolingly. "It's OK. I don't think any less of you, and I'm supposed to be the prince, after all." Iroh said, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm not sure I can change anything grandfather has decreed, but maybe I can try."

Kisho looked up at him warmly. "Vailea, he's just the way you said he would be: nice…and funny too. He doesn't even care that we're—" But Vailea shot him a nasty look. Kisho stopped abruptly. "—that we're against the Fire Lord—or his beliefs anyway." Kisho watched Vailea for approval. She stayed unreadable.

"That's right," Iroh added; trying to break the silence. "I _don't_ care. Vailea, you know I never have. My family and I don't share the same beliefs. That's never been a problem before."

Vailea sighed. "I know, I know" and then she smiled. "It was wonderful to see you again, Kisho. I'll come back and visit soon." The three exchanged goodbyes and Iroh and Vailea ventured off towards the docks.

They held hands, and Vailea's eyes drifted across the stall windows; clearly lost in thought. "Hey Vailea," Iroh shook her hand to bring her back into reality. "I'll meet you at the docks. There's something I have to get, OK?"

Vailea was still half in her mind, so she nodded without asking questions. Iroh broke away, accepting the unfamiliar feeling of leaving Vailea's touch. He had spotted a stand selling flowers. Making his way through the crowd, he reached the merchant and said "I'll pay three copper pieces for that panda lily," and he gestured to the flower.

The merchant laughed. "We have those imported specially from the tops of volcanoes. I won't let one go for less than a silver coin." He smiled; exposing his rotting teeth.

"I won't have you charge me a silver coin. These are flowers. It's robbery to charge more than four or five copper coins for one." It was true that Iroh could afford the flower. He could afford to be baskets of them, but he was starting to enjoy this bargaining business.

"_Five_ coins boy, are you mad? Some say these flowers are priceless; buying one for a lover is the only true way to show ones affections. Ask any woman who's received one. She'll tell you what receiving it meant to her." He exposed his rotting teeth again, and Iroh wondered when this disgusting man had ever had a lover.

Peering at the collection, Iroh frowned at the sad flower display. His mother tended to dozens of better looking panda lilies in their garden at the palace. He paused to try and come up with a better retort that would lower the haggling price. But as he thought, the merchant's eyes suddenly widened.

"Spirits save me, you're the prince!" The man put his hands to his head, and Iroh was jolted back into consciousness.

"Here," he said quickly. "I'll give you two silver pieces for that panda lily if you shut your mouth." Iroh urged, but the man only smiled. Iroh was in no mood to be discovered. He wasn't sure how the bazaar would react, and he didn't want to find out.

"Three." The merchant said as his grin grew larger.

"Two, and I won't have my father slice through your neck like a head of cabbage." The words were out before Iroh could retract them. He didn't know where they had come from, and he surprised himself with their severity. He had never been a cruel person. It was as if the sentence had been spoken from somewhere deep inside him. They had been spoken by the prince, not Iroh.

The merchants face filled with fear. Throwing the panda lily at Iroh, he slammed shut the stall window before Iroh could hand him the money. A few people turned around, and Iroh put his head down; partly in shame and partly to avoid being recognized. He left three silver coins at the brim of the shop window, and carried the limp panda lily to the docks. The walk was a guilt trip. Iroh searched his mind as he tried to pin point the exact place where the words had come from. He wanted to bury it.

He reached the dock to find Vailea with her feet over the edge, humming an unfamiliar tune. He silently wondered what Vailea would have thought had she been with him buying the flower. But then he pushed the thought away.

Sitting down next to her tiny form, Iroh slid the panda lily behind her ear. She turned to him, and gave a small smile. Vailea felt the flower behind her ear and seemed to understand. "We're not the same people we were, Iroh." She said vaguely. "I'm not the girl you found in the garden, and you're not the boy I climbed the tree with."

Iroh replayed the first time he had seen her; Vailea with panda lilies in her hair, talking with noblemen. She was still the bubbly ball of joy she was then, but perhaps she had changed. "I suppose we've gotten taller." He said jokingly, and he weaved his fingers through hers.

"Iroh," she asked unexpectedly. "What do you really think about mixed people—like Kisho." She didn't look at him, but instead watched their fingers intertwine.

"I think that we're all mixed." Iroh said honestly. "Everyone has a mother and a father; everyone comes from two people; everyone has mixed blood." For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, Iroh was surprised at what he had said. He agreed with it of course, but he was surprised that something that insightful had come from his own lips. He was changing, that's for sure.

Vailea didn't respond, but instead nuzzled her head into Iroh's neck. Iroh let her. At that moment, he didn't care if they were caught. He dangled his feet next to hers, and they watched the tides come in and out with the waves.


	9. The Prisoner

"…and that's how the avatar before her defeated the great king and queen of the barbarian tribes, who eventually returned to power in the late Earthen Era. This time also happened to be…" Professor Lee was talking, but Iroh was having trouble keeping his eyes open long enough for him to finish an entire thought. He lectured in a long, lingering monotone that did not match the boisterous yell he used for everyday scolding. In terms of unpleasantness however, Professor Lee's droning could only be matched by Madam Ima's shrieking.

Iroh tapped his fingers, and learned to nod and smile at intervals. He had already read about the Earthen Era in one of the books he had found in the library. It was part of the greater 'Peace and War' series he had been reading for months now. But it was easier to smile pleasantly than it was to correct Professor Lee on misuse of the word 'zephyr'.

"…and after that hurricane had spread to the lower provinces…" Professor Lee noticed Iroh was looking out the window instead of into his tiny, piggy black eyes. "Why don't you tell me what happened, Prince Iroh? You seemed to have acquired enough knowledge that you can afford to daydream during my lessons." He twitched his nose disapprovingly, and the young prince tried to smile politely.

"Forgive me sir, but I was just thinking about the battle near the Earth Kingdom capital after the airbenders had arrived. It came to me just after you were discussing the 'barbarian' tribes." Iroh tried to act somewhat animated, as not to give himself away. "Weren't waterbenders and airbenders working together to bend the storm clouds over lower and middle provinces? And eventually they bent enough air and water to create the hurricane?" Iroh asked and tried to make his eyes seem intent. He had just read that chapter a week ago, and so the information was fresh in his mind. Professor Lee looked as if he was about to choke on something. Iroh added "it was really your spectacular teaching that—"

"—Don't insult me boy." Professor Lee hissed. His eyes were becoming little black dots in his enormous fleshy face. "If you're going to be a smart alack, I have no time for you." Then Professor Lee clumsily collected his things; partly out of distracting anger, and partly out of natural clumsiness.

"That's quite unfortunate sir; not having enough time. But then again, when do any of us have time enough for—" Iroh was speaking calmly and as pleasantly as he could, but it only seemed to make Professor Lee's cheeks pinker…not that Iroh really minded of course. It had taken him years to master the appropriate way of dealing with the teachers who he simply had no patience to deal with. He had been learning to hold his tongue, and let what he didn't say speak louder than what he did.

"I thought perhaps a prince might have better manners than you—know how to treat his elders. HA! Apparently I was gravely mistaken!" Professor Lee stormed out of the room with a dramatic flair; leaving Iroh with 2 hours of free time.

"See you next week then!" Iroh called after him. It was lucky that Professor Lee had left facing the opposite direction. Iroh might have gotten lines if Lee had seen the unrestrained smirk on Iroh's face.

Lazily shoving Professor Lee's abandoned parchment into the chair next to him, Iroh spread his own books out upon the table. Earthbending: Ways of the Rock was stacked on top of Waterbending in Moonlight. Both books had been recommended to Iroh by Vailea, who constantly reminded him that learning about other bending elements was just as important as studying your own. "Bending fire is just bending air with a bit of a _kick_," she had tried to convince him. "All the elements are connected; just like all the nations. When you separate them, they become weaker." Iroh hadn't spent long to ponder over this, but instead borrowed the books from the library to appease Vailea's nagging.

As usual (which was _very_ annoying), Vailea turned out to be right. Of course Iroh didn't let her know that…it might provoke more nagging. But he began studying different bending mediums and applying them to his own. He was currently working with the Earthbending technique of neutral jinn. The technique came easily to Iroh, who was less rash with his firebending than the rest of the royal family. He had always waited and considered before striking; Earthbending only strengthened this fighting style.

He slid the panda lily bookmark out of its holding place (Vailea had been reading the book with him last time, and offered the flower to keep their page). As he did so, Iroh heard a knock on the door.

"I saw Professor Lee storming down the hall; I figured lessons were over for the day." Vailea leaned casually against the door frame with a pot of tea in one hand and a cup in the other. She brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes and smiled carelessly.

Iroh grinned. "Can't get anything past you. What kind of tea is that?"

"The kind you like." Vailea invited herself into the room, and the hair fell back into her eyes. She sat in the chair next to him, and began pouring the tea. "Chef Ai says she's not letting me make you anymore tea until you come down and visit her." Vailea handed Iroh the cup, and poured one for herself.

"Tell her I'm perfecting the art of neutral jinn. If I go down and see her I'll be doing something, and I have to focus completely on doing nothing." He closed his eyes and pretended not to move or breath. Vailea slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

"Come off it. Even the most powerful earthbenders have to breathe."

"Shhh," Iroh responded with his eyes still closed "I'm jinn-ing."

They both laughed, and Iroh sipped his tea. There was a hint of orange, which _was_ the way he liked it. Tea had become Vailea's specialty. She had continued making it for him ever since the night under the story tree. It had caused Iroh to develop, not just a taste, but a _love_ of the drink. In fact, that's what it reminded him of. Tea meant Vailea, and she was the only one who made it the way he liked. It reminded him of her kiss, and of the way she looked in the firelight, and everything else he loved about her.

Iroh leaned over to nuzzle his face into hers.

"Eww, stubble" she teased; pushing Iroh away. He ignored this, and kissed her anyway.

Things had finally seemed to settle into place. After months of seeing each other secretly, Iroh had finally let himself breathe. His family had given no inclination that they knew, or suspected, anything other than the regular friendship between Vailea and their son.

Moreover, the awkward beginnings of a first romance had faded, and were quickly being replaced by a more comfortable relationship; setting somewhere between childhood friends and adult lovers. This was mostly due to Vailea's 'teaching'. She had retired some of her cryptic messages in exchange for a more straight forward approach. Whether it was showing him how not to step on her toes while they were dancing, or asking him to hold her hand when they were out of the palace; Iroh began feeling more comfortable and confident with himself and their relationship.

Then again, some things they had learned together.

"So," said Iroh; closing the cover of his book. "Where should we go? I have an extra two hours to burn."

Vailea put down her cup of tea carefully, too carefully. "I've been thinking," she said, and Iroh knew it was a bad sign. "I have this old friend who I'd like you to meet." Noticing the look on Iroh's face, Vailea corrected herself. "Oh, it's not _those_ kinds of friends," she said, referring to some of the criminals whom he had already met.

"Sure," Iroh said, but he was still a bit worried. The last 'friend' Vailea had shown him had been an Earth Nation vagabond with a specialty in daggers. It was a skill Iroh had to experience first hand; there was still a scar near his shoulder.

"Trust me, you'll really like him." Vailea assured.

"Lead the way," Iroh offered, and the two ventured into the halls.

There was no need to hide anymore. Iroh and Vailea walked purposefully down the stone steps to the floors bellow. Everyone they encountered was either a servant or a nobleman. Between them, Iroh and Vailea had connections with both sides. Vailea was well liked among the palace staff, and tolerated by the Nobles whenever accompanied by Iroh. The prince, who was beginning to grow into a fine young man, was treated with more respect by the nobles; they were probably hoping that the Royal Family would find their daughters a more suitable match than the bride who had already been chosen. They bowed and plastered smiles on their lying, gossiping lips. Iroh tried to be charming and show a genuine grin; Vailea was living proof that a smile to someone's face was more effective than a word behind their back.

As they wandered down the halls together, Iroh finally asked. "So, where are we going exactly?" They were quickly descending the levels, and he wondered if eventually they would have to start digging.

"Have you ever been to the prisons?" She countered; avoiding the question as usual. But Iroh was smart enough to know what she meant.

"We're going to the prisons? As in, the dungeons?" He asked, a bit startled. Vailea had done a lot of stupid things, but the dungeons were off limits…even to princes.

"I asked you first. Have you ever been to the prisons?"

"No," said Iroh flatly. "And you shouldn't have been either. It's off limits Vailea. We both know that."

"And when has that ever stopped us before?" She asked in as matter-o-fact a tone as Iroh had ever heard.

He couldn't help smile a bit at this. Living with Vailea was like living in an adventure book; there was a surprise on every page. "It's dangerous, you know. You could have gotten hurt. You don't know who's down there."

"I do too." Vailea countered, and she seemed to relish the face Iroh gave in response.

"How many times have you been down there?"

"Enough," she said vaguely, and they descended another flight of stairs.

The dungeons were dimly lit, and had an eerie aura about them. Iroh couldn't shake the feeling that they were being followed. But every time he turned around, the hall was empty; which almost made it worse. As they continued through the hallways, there were longer intervals between torches; making the dim light even dimmer.

"How do people see down here?" Iroh asked; thinking out loud.

Vailea snapped, and a light appeared at the end of her pointer finger.

"Oh, right." Iroh said, following her lead.

He had been giving Vailea secret firebending lessons for a while now; ever since the night under their tree. She wasn't a born firebender as he was, but she wasn't horrible either. Maybe it was just that her natural style was so different from his or anyone's Iroh had ever seen. Vailea's firebending had a different flow to it. She seemed completely unable to create fireblasts or anything that needed brute force, but that might have just been the pacifist in her. Instead, Vailea seemed must more concerned with moving _with_ the fire. She let it flow around her like a river of flames. It was interesting to watch. And unlike most novice firebenders, Vailea seemed to be challenging some already learned techniques into a new medium. Her methods were odd, but well defined. She wasn't experimenting like Iroh had when he first learned to control his element. Instead, she appeared to be practicing some already learned skill. He could tell that she was retreating into her mind as she bent the flames. She was recalling some lost memory, but whether it was about firebending or not, Iroh did not know. Vailea was just odd.

"Shhh," Vailea instructed. Through the dim light, Iroh saw a shadow. "Guards," she whispered. He and Vailea put out their fires. A man in fully covered armor clanked along the hallway carrying a spear. Vailea and Iroh pushed themselves against the stone wall behind them, completely silent. The guard lifted his lamp, but chose to take the left turn instead of the right. Iroh and Vailea sighed.

Staying silent, they slipped into the hall from which the guard had just come; Iroh following Vailea's lead. It was dark, but Iroh didn't dare illuminate their surroundings in case it would attract more guards. In any case, Vailea seemed to know exactly where she was going—Iroh wasn't sure if this was good or bad.

"Here." Vailea instructed, and Iroh had to stop abruptly to keep from running into her.

"Where are we?" He asked. His eyes were trying to adjust.

"The dungeons, boy." A voice responded, and Iroh jumped. It was deep and raspy, completely unlike Vailea's.

Vailea reached out to hold Iroh's hand in the dark. "Don't be afraid." She coaxed, placing Iroh's fingers to the bars. "This is—"

"Kassan," said the voice, and Iroh jumped again. "Vailea is this the boy you've been telling me about?" He asked, and Iroh suddenly felt icy cold fingers slide through the bars and touch his.

"Yes, Kassan. This is Iroh." Vailea said.

"Iroh, eh? You're the prince, I hear."

"Yes," Iroh responded uncertainly. What was Vailea playing at? Who was this man? Why had she brought him here? When were the guards coming back?

Kassan seemed to read Iroh's mind. "I'd sit down and make yourself comfortable if I were you." He said. "If you're planning to stay, that is. The guards only make trips down the corridor every few hours—they avoid it completely if they can."

Vailea obeyed as if she had been expecting it, and she pulled Iroh down with her. "Should we turn on a light, then?" Iroh asked; looking in what he hoped was Vailea's direction.

"_You_ can," said Kassan. "It won't do me much good I'm afraid."

"What?" Iroh asked, and a flame sprouted from his index finger. There was just enough light to see by, and Iroh pointed the flame in Kassan's direction. Honestly, he wished they had just sat in the dark. The sight of Kassan made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. Kassan was an emaciated man, with a long silvery beard and white, sightless eyes.

"Noticed it now, have you? A bit frightening, I suspect." Kassan said with chapped lips. His eyes blinked in the light. One stared off in an opposite direction.

"Kassan lost his sight in battle." Said Vailea quietly "…before he was captured."

"…lived here four years." Kassan added, and a new feeling of pity arose in Iroh. "It wasn't until my second year that I meat Vailea, though. She's been something of a life line for me." Kassan smiled; sporting a set of rotting teeth. Iroh pondered for a moment how Vailea had managed getting down here to see this prisoner, and how she had managed to strike up a friendship with him.

"Oh, that reminds me." She said; digging into a handkerchief Iroh had just noticed. "I only brought some bread this time. We came on sort of spontaneous note." She smiled at Iroh, who was half wishing he was upstairs with Professor Lee right now, before handing Kassan the bread through the bars.

"Thank you child," he said; taking the bread gingerly.

Iroh took this as an opportunity to shine the light around Chung's cell. There wasn't much to see; a stack of hay for what must have been a bed, a hole for waste, a bucket for water.

"You don't say much, do you boy." Kassan interrupted Iroh's thoughts as he chewed the bread.

"Oh," said Iroh, unsure of how to react to this.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of." Kassan assured him. "There is power in the words not said." He munched the bread happily, as though he was sitting at a picnic with friends.

"Kassan is the best storyteller I've ever heard," Vailea said, and she smiled even though his eyes couldn't see her.

"Oh Vailea," he laughed through a mouthful of bread. "You're too good to me. I only know the stories passed down through my tribe. You know, the ones the bring communities closer. Very tight communities…the polar tribes…"

"You're from the water tribe then," interrupted Iroh. Kassan's eyes darted to his voice in what must have been habit.

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?" He asked skeptically.

"No, no, not at all." Iroh explained. "I'm reading a book about waterbending techniques. There's one move I've been trying to learn…maybe you could show me?" He asked. Part of Iroh was genuinely interested in watching waterbending first hand, but another part just wanted to gain Kassan's trust. He hadn't come off the right way, and he wanted Vailea's friend to accept him.

Kassan stared vacantly over Iroh's shoulder, but a faint smile crept over his chapped lips. "The Fire Nation prince asking for waterbending instructions from a blind prisoner—never thought I'd see the day. Actually, I guess I can't!" He laughed heartily at his own joke. "I like you boy. After we get through a good story I'll show you what I can; haven't bended anything in a good long time. The guards barely give me enough water to drink, let alone bend." He smiled and turned to Vailea. "You can't fool me. I know you've come down to hear a story—never seem to get enough of them can you?"

Vailea smiled sheepishly and was about to respond.

"Don't worry, don't worry. I prefer paying for my meals." Kassan lifted his bread. "Even if it's being paid in words. Now, what kind of story shall it be tonight?"

"A comedy…or an adventure, even a romance" suggested Vailea. "Anything other than a tragedy, really."

Kassan nodded. "It's like I've been telling you Vailea. It's so easy to tell a tragedy; all you have to do is kill off the main character. What's really difficult," he was looking over Iroh's shoulder again "is finding the _right_ way to end an adventure. Killing the characters is the cheater's way out; it's what storytellers do when they don't know how to end their stories." Kassan squatted down near the bars. "Keep that light near me, boy. It's been so long since I've felt the sun…"

Iroh extended the flame a bit. It was the first time he had ever visited the dungeons, and he could understand why they were forbidden. There was a murky, dead smell that lingered in the air; making every breath a reminder of where they were. Though Iroh was half thankful he couldn't see anything past Kassan's cell.

"How long have you been telling stories, sir?" He asked.

"Oh, the water tribes have always told stories." Kassan responded frankly. "As I've said, we're quite a community oriented group. We amuse ourselves by firelight telling stories of love and loss, of battle and peace." His eyes wandered off, but in the way Vailea's did she was reminiscing. "Vailea, of course, is one of the best storytellers I've heard in ages—even in my own villiage. You've got some sort of blood in you."

Iroh imagined that if they were in a lighter room, Vailea might have blushed. She said "Now _you're_ being too good to me!" in a cheerful tone. "But thank you," she added tenderly.

"Well _someone_ should be," Kassan looked in what he thought must have been Iroh's direction and gave a meaningful look. Unfortunately, Kassan pointed his head too far to one side, and was giving a very meaningful look to the wall. Iroh made up his mind not the say anything. "I'm in the mood for a romance then. And our story begins," continued Kassan "on the watery shores of the Northern Water tribe. Now, before I divulge, let me explain something to you about love stories. There are many kinds of love stories. Some are immortalized in myth and legend, some in stone. Some are remembered forever, and some are forgotten. But for every great love, there is an even greater story behind it." He said meaningfully. "This story is less well known than others of its genre, but it is one of the most beautiful I have ever heard. For there is something to be said about conquering love—the kind that surpasses tradition, law and even physical separation.

But as I was saying, we begin on the southern shores of the Northern Water Tribe. A woman lived there; a young woman just nearing 17. She was strikingly typical in terms of status and breeding; not a peasant nor royalty. But she had a fiery spirit; full of vigor and purpose." He smiled vacantly.

"And a spirit like that should never be tied down; forced against her will. So when she became engaged to a man she did not love, who could blame her for rebelling? Her chores were left undone, her manner almost forgotten… the charming young woman lost her compassion. Even her eyes lost their luster. Those beautiful blue eyes no longer looked above and too the future, because she insisted that she had none.

But one morning, through the fog, ships appeared; black ships that came in with the tides. And as soon as those ships came ashore, a wave of attacks followed. It was, in fact, the first Fire Nation attack on the North Pole.

Now, the young woman did all she could to aid her wounded tribe troops. They were her brothers and sisters, but she helped only out of duty—she had lost her compassion for the world and those living in it…that ice city fought valiantly against its enemies." Iroh fidgeted uncomfortably at the word. "There were casualties on both sides…

At the call of a superior, the young woman went to fetch some water for the wounded. As she drew a bucket, she heard a moaning noise behind the well. To her surprise, there was a Fire Nation solider who had dragged himself into her presence. A path of blood followed behind him.

In that moment, the woman had a choice to make. She had heard the stories of the ruthless firebenders, who would sooner take a life than give one. But as she saw the solider covering the snow with his own blood, and a feeling of pity overcame her. For we are all men, not matter which nation we come from. We all bleed, and so we all die. And as the young woman looked into the soldiers eyes, she saw that they were not crying. Nor were they begging her for help. They were steadfast and brave, and a brave man like this one, she thought, could not die alone in the snow.

Removing the young man's armor, she covered his wounds as best she could with the bandages in her coat. She gave him the same animal fur coat to keep him warm while she ran back for a team of dogs and a sled that would carry him. She hid the Fire Nation shoulder among the hundreds of wounded men in the infirmary; explaining to the medicine man that his pale skin was due to a high fever. Being from the Fire Nation, the recruit had a higher temperature than the water tribe men, and so it passed as a perfect lie.

Time went on, and the young woman took the solider into her own care. The war continued to wage outside, but neither of them acknowledged it in the other's presence. With substantial wounds, the Fire Nation solider was moved into his own room to be better inspected by the medicine men. The young woman felt a constant guilt that she was aiding the enemy, and that the solider was having such attentive care. But every time she visited him, there was something in his eyes that assured her she had done what was right.

With the physician's still convinced of the man's fever, the solider continued to be mended and cared for in the privacy of his own room. The young woman visited him daily, and the two became fast friends. He was not talkative in beginning, but eventually a charming personality shone through. He began speaking to her quietly of his home in the Fire Nation, and repeatedly thanked her for saving his life. She only blushed and shooed away his compliments, for he was a handsome man despite his pale skin and dark eyes.

When he was well enough to walk, the young woman brought the soldier into her city. They traveled together until night fall. And for the first time, the woman felt her old self again. Perhaps it was the influence of the stranger that brought the fire back into her eyes and restored the quickness of her tongue, or perhaps it was the freedom she felt with her fiancé away at war. But that spirit ran wild again, and she could not help stealing glances at the solider when he turned the other way.

Both understood that they could not keep the act up forever. He was Fire Nation, and the truth would come out. Eventually, her fiancé would come home and expect to be married. Eventually, the solider would have to return to his nation. In the meantime however, both were content. The soldier lived in the infirmary, helping doctors tend to the wounds of their soldiers. The physicians were convinced that his pale skin was merely due to the loss of blood and the weakness that went along with it. It was otherwise unexplainable, because all his vital signs were present and healthy. Only the gashes across his chest left signs that he had been healed. In any case, the medicine men needed all the help they could get, and the solider worked alongside the woman; aiding his enemy.

Months drifted by, and it seemed the Fire Nation might loose their siege of the North Pole. The young woman specifically kept this from the solider, and the doctors never thought to mention anything. It was policy to keep war talk out of the medicine tents.

Even so, no one could hide the great black ships when they started retreating. It began slowly at first, when the flow of ships slowed and eventually stopped. But the solider became aware that his Nation was leaving for home. Even if he hadn't seen the ships with his own eyes, the truth about the war was evident on the doctor's faces.

Torn between two sides, the soldier asked the young woman to come home with him; to marry him—for he had been stealing glances too... Against tradition and even against law, the two had fallen unexpectedly in love. But being from different worlds had more than a few disadvantages…

The young woman sobbed that night, and begged the moon to lighten her path. But spirits do not speak their advice aloud, and so the woman only cried harder.

Over the next several days the woman kept from giving her answer to her solider, but he was growing restless. The last of the Fire Nation ships were leaving, and he worried they might depart without him. So with a heavy heart, the woman gave him her answer. She was too proud to run away from her marriage, as it was her duty. And she was too afraid to venture into a new land—the land of her enemy. But to her surprise, the man responded with 'Then we can run away together; away from the Fire Nation, and away from the Water Tribes'. The woman stood aghast. She was still almost married…it was her duty…but, now remember this you two because it is very important, reason melts away when two people fall in love; leaving only passion and longing. The Earth Kingdom was neutral during those early stages of the war. They could live together in the Earth Kingdom. They could be free.

Together under the moon they made a promise. She would wait, and he would come; together they would live. And spirits help them when two people are left alone—

As dawn broke the next day, the solider kissed her goodbye and left on the ship. But now that the battle was over, the woman's fiancé returned. He expected to be married, just as she had anticipated. The plan was to delay the marriage with bouts of sickness and false illnesses. It was soon after this however, that the woman realized a great snag in their plan. She was carrying her soldier's child.

Falling into a pit of despair, the young woman fled her home. She fled for fear of being discovered—if her baby were born and known to be Fire Nation it would be killed. She fled to save the honor of her fiancé. She fled any chance of seeing her solider again."

Kassan paused thoughtfully for a moment, as if anticipating their reactions. Vailea broke the silence.

"I thought you promised you wouldn't tell us a tragedy." She said quietly.

"But my dear," Kassan replied "I haven't. This story ends with the opposite of a tragedy—it ends with new life." He smiled vaguely again. "The woman left for the Southern Water Tribe where she gave birth and—"

"But what of the lovers?" Vailea interrupted. "What will become of them?"

Kassan looked lovingly through the bars. "What will, or what did? What did become of them was a timeless ending to a more recent tale. The two were separated by land, events, by mistakes and tragedies—but not by heart. Any love that true cannot be divided by earthly or physical barriers. When the child was born it remained a symbol of their love, and it still is…

Now, as for what _will_ become of the lovers, Vailea I am no oracle. I am not wise in the occult arts, and I will not predict the future. But," he paused (whether for effect or not, Iroh was not sure) "it is partly up to them, and partly decided by the spirits. The moon was witness to their promise, child. But the sun and the moon share a common thread. As they dance from days into nights; they watch the promise makers. So I believe," he gave Vailea a meaningful look, and he actually appeared to be seeing her this time "the sun and the moon might be watching the lovers more than they know. And I think it, for the two heavenly bodies are really one, may play a card in the—"

Vailea and Iroh heard the clanking of armor against the stone cobbles. Iroh turned off the light, and the two scurried away in silence.

**Author's Corner**: Many thanks to those of you reading this (especially those of you who have been with me since the beginning). If you've read this far chances are that you like where the story is going. If you have time I always appreciate a review—good or bad. Even if it's just to stop by and say that you're enjoying the story; reassurance is always welcome.


	10. Water Colors

Vailea sighed as she moved her white lotus tile against Iroh's chrysanthemum. It was a foolish move for someone so clever. She had walked her pieces right into his trap; Iroh smiled inwardly when he realized that she was surrounded. But this happiness faded as soon as he caught sight of Vailea's expression. She didn't appear to be concerned with their Pai Sho game at all. On the contrary, she was looking absentmindedly out the window as Iroh dominated the board. It tainted his upcoming victory.

"Lea," he said; restraining himself from delivering the final blow against her innocent, white flower. "Is there something on your mind?"

"Hmm?" Vailea jolted back into consciousness; nearly knocking over the board in the process. She hurried to collect the tiles that had fallen to the floor. "Oh, no Iroh. I'm fine," she said, and Iroh could tell that she was lying.

"Really? Because I've never seen you play like this before," he said out of concern; but he was partly lamenting the lost Pai Sho game. He doubted they would actually finish it. "Are you sure there isn't something the matter? Or are you trying a new strategy?"

Vailea looked down at the board, and then up at Iroh. "Wanna take a walk in the gardens?"

Iroh fiddled with his own tiles as he said "I would rather you tell me what's wrong."

Vailea glared at him. "I don't want to talk about it, Ok?" She said, and her words were laced with a sadder tone.

Typical. Iroh could never wheedle anything out of her. Vailea refused to open up to him unless it was on her terms. He knew he would have to wait. But Iroh wanted to answers now. Vailea hadn't been the same since they had returned from seeing Kassan, and he wanted to know why. It had something to do with the story; he could tell that much. But what? Was she just deeply affected by it? Iroh knew that stories, tales, legends and anything of the sort had a profound influence on Vailea; to whom the characters and situations seemed so real.

"Alright, tell me when you're ready," said Iroh, and he tried to keep the trace annoyance out of his voice. "To the gardens then?"

"We can finish the Pai Sho game," Vailea offered.

Iroh looked at the board. Half the pieces were scattered across the floor (Vailea's doing), while Iroh's black ship, wooden wheel and chrysanthemum were still surrounding her white lotus tile. Vailea seemed to read his mind. "A bit of a lost cause, isn't it? You would have won anyway; you always do."

Iroh smiled as he and Vailea collected the rest of the tiles and stored the game in its proper place. Vailea was a worthy contender, but no one beat Iroh at Pai Sho. After years of strategy classes for his future in the military, some of it must have rubbed off. Iroh was a brilliant strategist.

"Hey Lea," he said when the cleaning was done. "How about you and I go on a picnic?"

She looked at him. "A picnic?"

"Yeah, you know; food, outdoors, grass in the food that you brought outdoors. It's quite a lovely way to spend ones afternoon."

Vailea just looked at him, and her unreadable expression cracked a smile. "A romantic outing with a charming prince; I think I can find some time."

"Wonderful! Do you think Chef Ai will mind too much if we go to the market instead of her kitchens? I'm in the mood to bargain."

The bazaar was loud and lively; just as Iroh and Vailea had learned to expect. There was always so much going on that it was hard to know where to turn your head. At one point, Vailea and Iroh spotted two merchants selling fish at stands opposite each other. One man called out an insult to the other and, before Iroh could blink, he was groping his way out of a fish fight. He was quite impressed with the long arm of the merchant selling the kangarootrout, so decided to buy from him. Cleaning the fish guts out of his hair, Iroh pulled out his coin bag to pay full price for the fish (any man who could toss a kangarootrout all the way across main road deserved two silver coins). But he was surprised to find Vailea acting as mediator between the two; telling one man off for pinching his competitor while they were supposed to be working out their problems with words.

"Well, that was eventful." Vailea brushed the fish guts out of her own hair. "Shall we be off to visit Kisho again? Word's reached me that he's got a sale on lettuce."

Kisho was Vailea's merchant friend; a balding, but excitable man with a big belly and a larger heart. Upon their last visit, Kisho had reviled to Iroh and Vailea that his father was Water Tribe. Iroh felt a surge of guilt when he realized that he had forgotten to talk to his grandfather about the latest proclamation; the one that banished anyone who was not of pure Fire Nation blood. He had promised Kisho to discus the matter with the royals.

But as the stab of guilt kept on stabbing, Iroh was jolted from his mind by the sight of Kisho's stand deserted.

"What?" Vailea asked aloud. Her jaw dropped, and disbelief was clear on her face. "What—where is he?" She circled the shop; as if looking for clues. She had left Iroh's side, and so he followed her.

"You don't think…?" The stab of regret was almost unbearable now. "The proclamation? They can't be enforcing it. I'll talk to my grandfather right now; I'll—Lea?" Iroh came to a halt when he noticed her. She was clutching the side of Kisho's stall; looking feint. Iroh made a great leap and caught her before she fell like a tree. "Lea, _Lea_," he said more urgently when Vailea did not respond immediately. He pulled a water sack out of his robes and poured some into his hand before sprinkling that drops onto Vailea's face. She did not move. "Lea, LEA!" He said more urgently. Iroh panicked. He didn't know what to do. Vailea was lying faint in his arms. He could take her up to the palace. She was small, he could carry her. But just as he braced his arms, Iroh noticed a weight on his shoulder. His knees buckled, and the weight forced him back to the floor.

"What's wrong?" A voice asked; it was Kisho.

"Kisho," said Iroh urgently. "I don't know what happened. She just fell; she feinted. What do we do?"

"Give her to me," Kisho instructed. The bubbly bald man that Iroh knew was replaced by a more stern, by still kind face. He took Vailea in his arms and began mumbling something in a different tone; a different language. He did not loose eye contact, he did not look away. He just mumbled those unfamiliar words to her lifeless face. "Water," he instructed, and Iroh handed him the water sack. Kisho poured water on her face as he sang, and Vailea jolted into consciousness.

Coughing and sputtering, her eyes feel on the warm-faced merchant holding her. "Kisho," she said in an urgent whisper, and she lurched forward to hug him. "Kisho I thought they had taken you. I thought the proclamation…" The water from Iroh's water sack was joined by Vailea's own salty tears. "Kisho, I thought the worst had happened; I thought…" But then the sobs overtook her, and Vailea burrowed her face into Kisho's shoulder. Iroh watched helplessly.

"No, no my little babbling brook." Kisho made shushing noises and tried to calm her. "I was just having a chat with the tea merchant from across the way. That's why I left my stall. I'm fine my dear." He patted her back like a father, and kissed her tangled brown hair.

"I thought, I thought," she tried to speak again in between sobs. "I thought they were really going to enforce it this time. I was scared," and Vailea's normally courageous, wise face crumpled back into tears.

"Hush, hush my dear," Kisho patted her consolingly. "Not yet, not yet. We're fine my little babbling brook. You're safe, you're safe. We're both safe." Kisho continued trying to sooth her.

Iroh watched them together. Part of him wanted to run to Vailea, to put his arms around her and tell her that everything was fine—she was safe; just as Kisho had done. But looking at them together, this merchant and a sobbing girl, Iroh felt as though he didn't quite belong. He could not put his finger on why. They shared a bond some way. Kisho was connected to Vailea in a way Iroh was not. Iroh couldn't bring himself to break this bond.

"Valiea," he spoke her full name. "My little babbling brook you are safe. We are both safe." He pulled her away from his body, and pushed the hair out of her eyes. "The proclamation is just propaganda; it's just here to inspire nationalism. I doubt they'd really enforce it."

Iroh, who had gotten his bearings, interrupted "Lea, he's right. There is no one here who would hurt you. It's just us, Iroh and Kisho." He stroked her back as Kisho had done. Iroh recorded Kisho's fatherly movements; the way he patted her gently, the way he hushed her without forcefully silencing her. Iroh would commit this to memory; the gentle manner Kisho had used to comfort a crying girl. He wanted that ability. It wielded such power without being powerful.

Vailea pushed her own hair out of her eyes. She sniffed and then looked down; embarrassed. "I'm so sorry," she said; starring at her feet. "That was completely uncalled for. I overreacted. I'm sorry."

Kisho patted her hair softly. "There is nothing to apologize for."

"Yeah, there's nothing wrong with being afraid." Iroh added comfortingly. "It's just a part of being alive."

Vailea nodded. "Well," she said; wiping the wetness out of her eyes. "I guess I've ruined our picnic, haven't I?"

It was Kisho who answered. "A picnic? You two were on your way to have a picnic?"

They both nodded.

"Well you shouldn't let this little bump in the road ruin a day like this. Look at the sun; it's a perfect day for a picnic. What have you got so far?"

Iroh held up a sorry looking Kangarootrout. He had dropped it in the midst of the Vailea confusion, so the fish was covered with dirt.

"That doesn't look particularly appetizing to me—no offense to you."

"None taken," said Iroh honestly.

"How about I stock up on some food for you, and the three of us can go on a picnic together!"

"Oh Kisho, you don't have to give us—" But Vailea was interrupted.

"I won't take 'no' for an answer. It's a beautiful day; all of us could use some fresh air. Let me gather some lunch and close up the shop." Kisho smiled warmly. "Iroh, do you mind helping me in the back?"

"Not at all," Iroh responded quickly. He was still feeling guilty about not talking to the Fire Lord about the proclamation, and was hoping Kisho would give him a chance to explain himself.

"I can help," said Vailea urgently. But as soon as she tried to stand, she wobbled back into a sitting position.

"That's awfully nice of you Lea, but you're in no condition to carry anything heavy; not at the moment at least." Kisho eyed her firmly, and Vailea obeyed. "Come here Iroh," Kisho instructed, and Iroh followed him behind the stall.

"Listen Kisho," Iroh began, but he was cut off.

"Now I know Lea's gonna want to help us with the picnic basket, but we can't let her. Alright? She's been going through a tough time lately, and this had only made it worse. Oh, and she'll need some help making it up the hill too. I thought perhaps you could support her. She'll be too proud to let me help her again." Kisho handed Iroh a fish so enormous he almost collapsed with the weight.

"Yeah, of course." Iroh said, trying to regain his balance. "Listen Kisho, like I was saying…I'm really sorry about the proclamation. I didn't do anything about it. I've just been so busy lately…" He trailed off.

Kisho shook his head dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I didn't expect anything to be done. With the war going on and the Fire Lord being who he is; I didn't expect the legislation to be retrieved. Don't blame yourself." He added; noticing the look in Iroh's eyes. "If you want to make it up to me you can do so by helping me with this basket; it's heavier than an elephant koi."

Iroh ran to the basket eagerly. "Oh, and Kisho," he added. "That song—the one you sang to Lea when she'd fainted. What was it?"

Kisho cracked a smile. "It's a healing song. My father used to sing it to me when I was a boy…when I was sick. It's Water Tribe."

The three of them trekked up a hill that Kisho promised _'has the best view for miles'_. It was near enough to the Bazaar that the only serious walking was actually up the hill. Kisho and Iroh carried the basket together; each holding one side. Vailea reluctantly leaned on Iroh while stubbornly insisting that she could climb on her own. Every time these words were put into action however, she reluctantly fell back onto Iroh's shoulder. By the time they reached the top, his left side was warm from where she had leaned.

"It's beautiful," said Vailea when Kisho sat the picnic basket down, and they had a clear view of the harbor and the sea.

"It always is," said Kisho. "Views like this remind us that the world is beautiful, even though it doesn't seem that way all the time." He looked at Vailea and Iroh. "Now, my shop will be missing me. I'll see you two—"

"You're not leaving us?" Vailea interrupted. "Kisho, you brought us to this beautiful view, you've packed a picnic basket full of food. Don't tell me you've done all this just to leave. Kisho stay and enjoy the day."

He kissed her forehead. "My little babbling brook, when you are my age you will understand. I have seen enough beauty today to last me quite a while. It is a beauty not even this miraculous view can match." Kisho looked at the two of them. "I'll be seeing you soon," he waved and Iroh swore he caught Kisho wink at him.

Vailea exhaled meaningfully, and for a moment they sat in silence. "I can see why you like him," said Iroh, who was beginning to unpack their lunch.

"He's too good to me," Vailea responded softly.

"I expect you're like a daughter to him," said Iroh. "Want some bread?" He added, and when she turned around he had already stuffed half of it into his mouth. Iroh twitched his nose like a Meadow Vole.

Vailea looked as though she might have tried to scowl at him, but she laughed instead. She countered by stuffing some lettuce in her own mouth and chewing it like a Rabbaroo.

Iroh swallowed the bread and stuck two chop sticks in his mouth where fangs would be. He gave a low, deep grow. "Saber-Toothed Mooselion beats Rabbaroo!"

This game continued for a while, and ended only when they had extinguished all possible ideas on how to use food to mimic animals. Iroh was taking slices of cucumber off his eyelids (they had been used to impersonate the yellow-green eyed Pygmy Panther) as Vailea retired her Sheep Pig imitation. Putting away the various foods, Iroh gave one last monstrous roar and lunged forward. He landed on Vailea, careful not the hurt her, as she laughed and squealed "what kind of animal is that?"

"The Iroh," he said softly; looking down at her. He kissed her, and there was a moment of tenderness, but then Vailea pushed him off playfully.

"The Iroh, huh? The Iroh is no match for the Lea!" She rolled backwards down the hill, and Iroh gave chase.

She came to a stop half way between the road and their picnic basket; leaves sticking to her hair and robes. Vailea spat out some grass that had somehow ended up in her mouth, and caught her breath. Iroh slid next to her, in more sauvé a manner than he thought possible for himself. "Some animal you are," he said smirking.

Vailea looked up at him; panting and smiling as she said "Vailea's (pant) are fish. They don't (pant) do as well on dry land. I'd (pant) beat you in a swimming race any (pant) day."

She crawled up a ways so that the two of them were level. Iroh stroked her hair absentmindedly; picking out a loose leaf whenever he came across it. He looked out across the harbor. The scenery was truly breathtaking. The setting sun made the harbor glitter; like thousands of little fireflies diving in and out of the ocean together.

"You'd be hard-pressed to find anything more beautiful." Vailea said quietly.

Iroh looked down at her. He had seen something more beautiful, but he kept the thought to himself.

"Remember when we first met, and you asked me what a water color painting looked like?"

"Mhmm," Iroh made a committal noise in his throat.

"It looks like this."

Iroh gazed out across the harbor again. He watched the colors melt together in the setting sun; everything painted with dim light. Perhaps they could sit there forever, he thought. They could become statues of a boy and a girl; immortalized by a brush in a water color painting. And some day a child would come across that painting, and ask to hear the story behind it.

**Author's Corner**

**WARNING**: Extreme fluff ahead, or er…behind. Sorry if you were expecting a serious chapter— because this my friends, is defiantly not it. Also, I'm sorry that this chapter took so long to get out. I've been planning the remainder of the story, so I've had my hands full. The good news is that I've planned a few chapters ahead, so writers block shouldn't be as terrible as it was the past few weeks.

I've been meaning to write an extremely fluffy chapter for a while now, and fluff isn't actually my strong point. I think I might have managed some subconscious fluff in previous chapters. Anyway, Iroh and Vailea actually doing dating-ish stuff. My gift to any fluff lovers. Beware, this may need to keep you for a while.


	11. The Bride

"Thank you, pirates!" Vailea called back as she and Iroh waved to the crew.

"What pleasant gentleman," Iroh commented; readjusting the music box and turtle duck model he had just bought. "And ideal bargainers too; they give a fair price range, and the general selection is beyond that of a normal stall. I wouldn't mind going back."

It was true that the pirates had been surprisingly polite. Many of them he recognized from the 'WANTED' posters Vailea kept in her room. But instead of maintaining the bloodthirsty, ravenous expressions he had seen on those posters, the pirates actually smiled. Iroh imagined they were keeping their typical grunting and growling to a minimum in the presence of Vailea, whom they called 'Madam' and 'Miss'.

Iroh even noticed a few of them trying to hide their cutlasses when she first appeared. One man had been so eager to hide his dagger that he nearly sliced off a finger. This, Iroh thought, must have been the influence of Vailea's warning speeches against the dangers of violence. But honestly, they were pirates. Slicing a man within the inch of his life was simply in their nature.

"They come to our port about twice a year" Vailea informed him. "It's usually early winter or late spring. The Captain says that they make a round trip from the Fire Nation to the Southern Water Tribe to the Earth Kingdom to the Northern Water Tribe, and then repeat the cycle."

"Sounds a bit of a rigid schedule for men who are supposed to be answering the call of adventure," Iroh nearly dropped his music box as he said this, and Vailea had to help him rearrange all his purchases so that he could actually carry them.

"Well, the one with the scarf says they're usually lucky enough to find at least one good adventure with every cycle. And they like the security of sailing in a circle because it means that they're always going somewhere. It was the one with the ginger beard who told me that life on the sea can be quite dull at times, and it's nice to know that you're at least going someplace familiar and somewhat exciting."

"I didn't know pirates were so complicated," Iroh said honestly.

"You'd never know unless you asked them," she said while absentmindedly tucking her hair behind her ears. "You know," Vailea added thoughtfully. "Pirates see things we don't; things we can't. They aren't linked to one Nation, so they can travel freely—they're like nomads."

"Nomads with cutlasses," Iroh said in a dreamy tone; pretending to stare off into space. He waited for Vailea to hit him playfully like she often did. But when he looked at her, she was still staring at the ship; transfixed.

"It would be nice, wouldn't it? To have your own ship and be able to travel anywhere you want. You could just sail on forever…or you could sail home." Vailea said, still starring at the ship. "They invited me to go with them, you know; travel as long as I liked."

"What?" Iroh asked in disbelief. What had she just said? His brain was trying to register. Was she serious? What would pirates want with Vailea? What would Vailea want with pirates? Iroh could only imagine what that disgusting crew would want with a teenage girl.

"Mhmm," Vailea made a committal noise in her throat. "They said they've been meaning to invite me for a while now."

"Lea, you're not actually considering…"

Then she turned around. And there was an unmistakable look in her eyes. It was one Iroh had seen before; had seen countless times. It was the look she gave when she was lost in her storytelling; the deep look, where her eyes became portals. And now she was about to be lost in her own story if he didn't do something.

"Lea," Iroh said urgently; taking both her shoulders firmly in his hands. "Lea, you're home is here. You live here with me and your father…and Chef Ai and the maids and the servants and the Story Tree. Lea you belong here." He didn't shout at her, but rather spoke sharply and firmly. He wanted his message to be clear. She couldn't leave with those pirates. She didn't belong with them. Vailea belonged here. She wasn't a pirate or a nomad. She was a Firebender; she belonged in the Fire Nation.

Vailea stared at him. The look in her eyes faded. "How do you know where I belong?" She asked boldly. "Just because I live here now doesn't mean I should forever. What if I have things to do? What if there is something I'm meant to do and I can't do it here?"

"What do you mean?" Iroh asked, but she didn't respond. "Lea, you're a Firebender, where else would you belong?"

She maintained contact, but something behind Vailea's eyes stirred. "Where?" The question was one that didn't demand an answer, at least not from Iroh. Where did she belong? The answer was obvious, but Vailea seemed to be asking herself more than anybody else.

"Listen," said Iroh in a softer voice. He remembered the way Kisho had handled Vailea. He put his hand softly on her back, and rubbed back and forth. "The Messenger Hawk can fly for miles, but it always returns to its master. Do you know why?"

"Why?" She asked, and he could tell she was humoring him.

"Because that's where its home is; it returns to the place where people care about it."

"Is this your idea of convincing me to stay, then?" She asked, almost smiling.

"I'm not doing the best job, am I?"

"I can see what you're getting at, but the proverb could use a bit more work."

"I haven't practiced in a while."

"I can tell."

They stared at each other. A bit harsh, Iroh thought. He had somehow awoken the sleeping dragon; the fire inside Vailea. She hadn't been herself since the meeting with Kassan; her spirit had been snuffed. But here it was again, more vehement than before.

"Lea, I—"

"Don't want to talk about it," she interrupted. And without another word, with a flash of hair, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Iroh was left confused, angry and holding more bargained items than he could carry. But he let her go. Any idiot could tell something was wrong. Something had been wrong for a while now.

Leaving the music box on the side of the road, Iroh struggled to fit the remaining items in his arms. He was able to shuffle his way back to the palace where he dumped another batch of bargained objects in the bushes near the gates; he would pick them up later.

The guard grinned at him when Iroh reached the palace doors. Iroh smiled uneasily back. "I've just heard the good news, Prince Iroh," said the guard through his heavy, metal helmet.

"Good news?" Iroh asked. His mind had been with Vailea, and it had taken him a moment to register what the guard's words.

"Yes, sir. Haven't you heard?" Iroh couldn't read the man's expression from behind the helmet, but he sounded surprised. "Madam Aiko, your future wife, has finally come to visit. Her parents, the Nobleman Dato and the Noblewoman Hana are anxiously waiting to meet their future son-in-law. Your father has requested that—"

But Iroh didn't hear the rest. His head was spinning. Wife? Aiko? No. That was wrong. It had to be wrong. Iroh had always known in the back of his mind that his parents had found him a wife. All Fire Nation royals had arranged marriages; whether to gain wealth or power, politics always played a role. Parents sold their children to the highest bidder. Even so, Iroh had never really believed he would have to go through with it. Sure his parents, his grandparents and countless generations before them had married whomever their parents chose. But the idea of marriage had always seemed so far off. A part of him never really believed he would have to go through with it. He had, subconsciously, been making other plans…

"I hear she's quite beautiful too," the guard interrupted Iroh's thoughts. "She's around your age; black hair, golden eyes—Fire Nation through and through."

Iroh was still starring. "How long has she been here?"

"On a few hours, sir. Her family just arrived."

"Where is my father?"

"I expect he's with them. I was instructed to inform you that he and your mother desire a conference with you in the Great Hall. You best be getting a move—"

Iroh was off before the guard had a chance to finish. He was running faster than he ever had before. He was running beyond the walls of the palace; beyond reason; he was running to reclaim his life.

By the time the Great Hall was in site, Iroh was exhausted. His legs were weak and trembling because he had never stopped to take a breath. Even when confronted by members of the palace staff, Iroh only brushed past them. He expected they would have questions, even words of malice. He didn't want to hear any of it. Through years of secretly being together, Iroh expected that most of knew. How could they not? That Iroh and Vailea were more than they tried to let on. He didn't know how they had managed to quiet their tongues, and kept the gossip from reaching the royal court. But subconsciously, it seemed everyone knew that Vailea and Iroh were destined for one another.

"Ah, here he is now," said a voice, and Iroh looked for its source. Standing beside his father, dressed in extravagant robes, was who Iroh guessed must be Nobleman Dato.

"Yes, this is our son, Prince Iroh." Iroh's father spoke in a falsely cheery manor. He and Iroh's grandfather were also wearing their best attire. Iroh's mother stood beside them, beaming.

"Father," was all Iroh was able to blurt out. His tongue seemed to have swelled in his throat. He was panting heavily, and his mind was racing for what to say. How could he say it—especially in front of the Nobleman and Noblewoman?

"He's usually not late like this," Iroh's father explained. He looked disapprovingly at his son. "Iroh, this is your future father-in-law, Nobleman Dato. You will bow to him."

For a brief second, Iroh dared to disobey. This man would not be his future father-in-law because he would not marry his daughter. He needed to explain to his own father that Aiko would simply not become his wife. But then, with a surge of hatred towards himself and his family, Iroh bowed. "Sir," was all he could mange to say.

"Honestly," said the round-faced woman Iroh knew must be Noblewoman Hana. "He doesn't say much, does he? So quiet…I expect those are just the values of respect and reverence you have instilled in him. He must be polite to his elders."

A flicker of a smile dashed across his father's face. "Yes," he said quietly. He paused before facing his son to say "Iroh, Nobleman Dato owns much of the land near the southern provinces. He promises me that Fire Nation factories will be stationed there to provide more weapons for the war effort."

"Oh," Iroh managed to form a response. This must be the reason for the marriage then; land. Iroh faced Dato; a smiling old man who looked almost twice the age of his wife. And he was large as his wife was small. "Hello sir," Iroh managed to squeak out again. Something inside of him had taken over. He couldn't shout what he had run through and entire palace to tell his father. He was trapped in the body of a prince; bound by the restrictions of royalty. His lips couldn't move to disrespect his father, even when he willed them to.

"Father," Iroh said again; forcing his words to obey. "Father, may I speak to you in private?"

Iroh's father frowned. "Not now Iroh, for I have a job for you. Nobleman Dato has a son, and this son has expressed interest in exploring the palace. You will be his guide."

Iroh was about to protest when he heard a sneeze. Everyone turned around. Standing behind her mother; clutching the side of her robes, was Aiko. Her black hair was tied into what looked to be a relentlessly tight bun. Her round face was white; porcelain. She was small; tinier than Iroh had been at that age.

As he stared, Iroh guessed that she couldn't be older than eight or nine. Her wide eyes, which were the same golden shade as Iroh's, were dim and lifeless. There was no curiosity, no vivacity behind them. She wore a blank expression. It was as if the life had already been crushed out of her.

"Forgive me," said Nobleman Dato; bringing his daughter into the light. "This is Aiko. Aiko, would you like to say hello to Iroh?"

The little girl stared up at him. "Hello," she said in a voice so quiet Iroh could barely hear. She bowed respectfully.

It took a moment before Iroh realized that his jaw was still open. "He—hello," he said in a hoarse voice. Where they kidding? Honestly, his parents had to be playing a cruel joke on him. This girl must have been at least eight years his junior. She was a baby in comparison to him.

"And over there," said Dato; pointing his fat finger to the corner. "Is our son, Keyung." Iroh looked to where Dato was pointing. A boy (who really was about his age), was talking sharply to a servant.

"And I want fresh towels every day; not once a week, not every two days, ONCE a day." The maid was nodding, and looked like she was about to cry.

"Keyung," Dato called over, and the boy turned. He was the spitting image of his father, large with fleshy lips and pink cheeks. But unlike the bubbling man in front of him, Iroh noticed that Keyung already had already developed frown lines.

"Hello," Iroh said again, bowing.

"Hi," mumbled Keyung coldly, bowing as well.

There was a brief pause where neither of them knew what to say next. But Iroh's mother interrupted the silence swiftly. "Iroh has agreed to escort you around our castle Keyung. I am sure you will find it an enjoyable tour."

Keyung forced what he must have thought was a smile. "Thank you Madam. I'm sure I will."

"Keyung is very interested in architecture," Dato interjected. "He loves looking at palaces, castles and all manner of buildings." There was a pause. "I hope the time you spend together will be the beginning of a fruitful friendship."

Iroh looked blankly from his mother to his father, and then to Dato and his wife. They smiled back at him; Dato and Hana with genuine glints in their eyes, Iroh's parents with meaningful stares.

It was all too obvious that this was not the time to explain to his parents that Aiko was simply not the right match for him. Moreover, the firebenders would have to go the same way as the airbenders before he agreed to marry her. But Iroh would have to act with stealth and cunning to find a loophole; a way out of this mess. He would approach the problem was he did a firebending opponent, or a Pai Sho game; go through all the options before acting.

It took a second for Iroh to realize that he was walking. His feet had started without him, and Keyung was already to his side. "So," Iroh began. "Where would you like to go first?"

"The kitchens," Keyung answered without delay.

Iroh tried to be pleasant. "I would highly recommend a different destination." He thought of Chef Ai, and how she would react if she was forced face-to-face with the brother of Iroh's supposed future wife.

"You asked where I wanted to go, and I told you," Keyung said sharply.

"Your father said you were interested in architecture. How about—"

"I'm hungry," Keyung interrupted before Iroh could make a suggestion. He was scowling now. It was obvious that visiting the kitchen was not just a suggestion; it was an order.

"As you wish," Iroh said with a sigh. He wasn't sure which was worse; meeting Chef Ai, or angering the pudding ball in front of him. Then again, Iroh did not want Keyung giving irritated reports to his family when Iroh was so desperate to win their favor. He led Keyung downstairs.

Most of their trip was completed in silence; broken only by the gurgling sounds coming from Keyung's stomach. At one point, Keyung did comment on the architecture, but his voice was haughty and pompous when he said "that door was welded with a technique the northerners use. It's typically employed in ship building. The southern provinces are much more efficient when it comes to door hinges."

And then the smell reached them before the door was even in sight. It was heavenly, as the food from the Chef Ai's kitchen always was. Iroh felt Keyung's pace quicken beside him. They reached the entrance, and Iroh took a deep breath. He heard Keyung do the same. But he was probably inhale the smell, whereas Iroh as trying to send as much oxygen to his brain as possible. He would need it.

The kitchen was so busy that nobody noticed them slip inside. Keyung sniffed greedily at the air, before looking expectantly at Iroh. "Well, this is it." Iroh said with a smile. "Beautiful, yes? I think so too. The cooking pot is over here. Tonight's dinner is in the corner, and oh look here comes Chef Ai. Doesn't she look lovely?"

Chef Ai was glaring as she carried a pot of soup towards the burners. She brushed past Iroh as if he didn't exist; destroying the hope Iroh had that perhaps she was unaware of Aiko's family and their connection to his own.

"What's wrong wit her?" Keyung asked loudly.

"Nothing," Iroh said dismissively. "Here, try this soup." He handed Keyung a spoon without looking at him, and hurried through the crowd towards Chef Ai.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said when he reached her. Iroh didn't know why he was apologizing. None of this had been in his control. But it felt right ask for forgiveness. "It was never my idea. It was never my wish. I never wanted—I never _want_ to marry her." He explained, but Chef Ai was not looking at him. "Ai, please." Iroh tried coaxing her, but her eyes remained firmly forward. "Ai," he paused. "You know your hair looks beautiful, are you trying something new?"

She slammed the stirring spoon down on the table next to her. Iroh tried not to flinch. "Do not test me, Iroh!" The spoon was pointing at him now, as was Ai's piercing stare. "Do not think for a moment, a single moment, that you are doing yourself any favors by joking about this." She was yelling. They were causing a scene. But if anyone else in the kitchen had noticed the quarrel, they pretended not to. Iroh swore he caught one of the maids flinch when Chef Ai's voice rose. But she only swept her broom a bit faster away from them.

"I wasn't joking I was just—"

"Don't you test me!" She repeated. Chef Ai's upper lip was quivering dangerously now. Iroh was not surprised. In the absence of a mother, Chef Ai had become the dominant female figure in Vailea's life. Now that another girl threatened Vailea's place with Iroh, it seemed natural that she would react defensively.

Iroh was silent. He was sure that anything that came out of his mouth would just make things worse.

"And maybe," she continued fiercely. "In the midst of all this apologizing, you have forgotten what night it is."

"What night?" Iroh mouthed as he thought it.

Food from the stirring spoon splattered across his face as Ai swept it in the direction of the kitchen's one, tiny window. It was twilight, but in the fading colors Iroh could faintly make out the outline of the moon. It was round; full.

Iroh's heart skipped a beat.

"You were going to break the mold," said Chef Ai, and her voice was trembling now. Iroh looked back to her. "I thought you two, I was sure you two…" Ai paused. She turned away; probably, from what Iroh could tell, to wipe the tears out of her eyes.

Iroh opened his mouth to protest; to explain to Chef Ai that he and Vailea were just friends. He did so more out of habit than anything else. It seemed natural now to deny that there was anything between him and Vailea other than a strong friendship.

"Don't pretend. Don't you dare lie to me, boy. We all know. We've all known. We kept silent for her, and for you. We knew your parents wouldn't like it. She was never good enough for _them_," Chef Ai continued; spitting out the last word. "And this is how you repay us? This is how you repay her?" Chef Ai shook her head and turned away again, and Iroh was thankful. He couldn't handle the look in her eyes; the absolute loathing mixed with a deeper sadness.

Time passed before Iroh touched her back. He struggled for what to say but words weren't coming easily. "Chef Ai," he finally whispered. "Turtle ducks that swim together cannot control who else fills their pond. I never invited Dato and his family, it wasn't my choice." He paused. "I understand that you feel hurt, and betrayed. But don't you think it's possible, that I feel just as helpless as you?"

Chef Ai had returned to her stirring. She had set her jaw and was breathing heavily. Iroh waited for her to speak again. "Turtle ducks," she mumbled. And for a moment, he thought she was going to scream at him again. But she turned back in Iroh's direction, and when they made eye contact Ai was no longer glaring. She sighed. "Iroh baby," she shook her head. "Baby I love you, but turtle ducks?"  
A wave of relief washed over him. "I'm still fine tuning the analogy." He said defensively.

Chef Ai looked behind him; watching Keyung devour the bowl Iroh left him with. "That was supposed to be the second course—it was going to feed the whole party."

"Oh, well, sorry about that." Iroh said awkwardly. "Erm, on the bright side of things it looks like he enjoyed it." This was an understatement. Keyung had finished with his spoon and was now proceeding to stick his entire face in the bowl as he licked the bottom.

Chef Ai smiled and looked at him. "Baby, what are we gonna do about this?"

"I'm working on it," said Iroh, who was still watching Keyung. "Do you think you could keep him busy for a while? I'd rather he wasn't with me when I see Lea."

"No problems, honey. I've got five more courses to keep him occupied." She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Then she paused as Ai searched Iroh's face. "You're growing into such a handsome young man," she said after a time. Iroh had nothing to say to this, so he smiled pleasantly. "Well, anyway, Good luck, Prince Charming."

Iroh was able to slide out the kitchen door without drawing anymore attention. He walked briskly through the halls of the palace, careful not encounter anyone noble who would alert his parents.

By the time he reached the exit, the sunset colors had faded almost completely. And the lingering light cast eerie shadows as Iroh walked through the garden. He clung to the hope that Vailea had not heard the news about Dato and his family. Sure, Chef Ai knew, but she knew everything. There was still a chance.

And then Iroh saw Vailea. She as sitting by a fire she had made herself; tea in her hands; huddled in a little ball against the story tree. She wasn't crying. But the look on her face told Iroh all he needed to know. Vailea knew. She was pale; almost as pale as he was. Her knees were at her chin as she stared off into space. Her eyebrows were knitted together painfully.

"Lea," Iroh ventured quietly; half hoping she wouldn't here. But Vailea turned to face him.

"What?" She came out of a trance. "Oh, Iroh it's you!" Vailea said in surprise. Quickly shoving a piece of hair behind her ear, she poured another cup of tea. Most of it spilled on the grass. Iroh noticed her hands were shaking.

"Lea," Iroh tried again. But she shoved the cup of tea into his hand. He could smell the scent of orange.

"Drink," she said encouragingly.

Iroh did as he was told. He followed Vailea's lead and drank the tea. There was something missing from it.

"So," Vailea continued in a falsely cheery tone. "Do you want to tell a story or shall I?" She moved to the opposite side of the fire. The tree cast shadows in the firelight.

Iroh watched her, but stayed silent. He knew what he had to say, but he was sure neither he nor Vailea wanted to discuss it. Yet it needed to be discussed. He looked down at his tea cup. Part of it was cracked. He rubbed his finger up and down the slit thoughtfully. "Lea," Iroh said finally. "I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"Dragons."

"Dragons?"

"Yes. Dragons. I remember reading something in the library; it was about dragons." Vailea looked at him questioningly, but Iroh continued. "Dragons can live for hundreds of years, you know." Iroh sipped his tea. "And dragons, well they mate for life." Vailea was still looking at him. Iroh couldn't help feeling that the tables had turned. There had been so many times throughout their friendship when Vailea led him into a story this way; slowly releasing various and seemingly useless facts until she revealed their purpose at the very end. "Even though dragons live for hundreds of years," Iroh continued "they still manage to stay together. Sometimes they might separate—fly in opposite directions for a while—but they always find each other in the end." He sipped his tea again. "You once said we were dragons."

Vailea didn't respond right away. She was looking at the fire. Iroh didn't rush her. "She's very beautiful."

"Who?"

"You know who."

Iroh paused. "You're beating around the bush."

"She has glossy black hair." Vailea continued as if she had not heard his last comment. "Any man would be lucky to have her."

Iroh looked at her. "She's not my dragon."

"What?"

"You're my dragon, Lea. You've always been—even when you were covered in bark." Iroh smiled at the memory. Vailea, curiously, seemed to be at a loss for words.

"And what if I flew away?"

"Then I would follow you."

The two of them looked at each other.

"That's ridiculous, Iroh." She said finally.

"Why?"

"Because it is!" She fired up. "When people leave they do it for a reason. They run away so that they can't be followed! They run away to start a new life; or to fix past mistakes—they run away to conquer life themselves!"

Iroh looked at her. He tried to maintain a pleasant expression. Iroh expected that something small like this might set her off. He sipped his tea. "Then I'd be selfish and follow you."

Vailea continued to fume for a moment, but then her expression softened. She let herself fall onto the soft grass. "I know it isn't your fault." She said. "It's not even that girl's fault. You could even argue that it isn't your parents fault."

"No, no" Iroh interrupted her "feel free to blame them. I do."

Vailea smiled sadly. "It's just the way things are, Iroh. You are a royal. The royals have arranged marriages. That's the way it's always been. I just fooled myself into thinking maybe that would change, and maybe we could change it." She shook her head. "I've always told myself that nothing was impossible. That just because no one—"

"—ever has done something, doesn't mean no one ever will." Iroh finished her sentence.

Vailea looked surprised, but it quickly faded into the same sad smile from moments earlier. "Exactly."

"And I think you're right. Don't doubt yourself, Lea."

She looked up at him. "Do you believe in fate?" Vailea asked suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"Fate, you know, a destiny. Do you think people have destinies?"

Iroh thought for a moment. "Some people, perhaps."

"What if you're supposed to do something," she continued quickly "and it doesn't get done? What if you miss your chance?"

Iroh thought he knew what she was talking about. "If you feel it in your gut, don't let the ship sail. Chase—or in this case swim—after it." Iroh assumed Vailea was talking about them—Vailea and Iroh together. He wanted to encourage her. Iroh didn't want Vailea to give up yet. He hadn't.

She looked intently at the fire. Iroh watched as Vailea lifted her own fiery dragon out of the flames.

"So you _are_ a firebender, then?" A new voice cut the silence. Both Vailea and Iroh spun around. With a great sinking feeling, rather like plunging off a cliff, Iroh noticed Keyung march his way into the clearing.

"How long have you been there?" Iroh asked sharply.

"Only a few minutes," Keyung said carelessly. "I followed you out of the kitchens, but I got lost. Your orchard isn't very well designed, Prince Iroh." Then Keyung faced Vailea. "You're a firebender."

"I am." She responded. Iroh could tell Vailea was still in a state of shock, but she quickly recovered. "My name is Lea." She said; forcing a smile. In the midst of everything, Iroh thought it was absolutely ludicrous to be cheerful. Keyung was intruding. How had he gotten away from Chef Ai? Had she run out of courses? But Vailea never missed an opportunity to make new acquaintances; even ones with heads as big as Keyung's.

"You're a firebender." He repeated. "I was watching from the bushes. You can make a dragon out of fire."

Iroh resisted rolling his eyes. Vailea looked like she was about to respond, but Iroh cut her off. "What do you want?" He asked harshly to Keyung.

"You were _supposed_ to be touring me," Keyung said accusingly. "It doesn't matter what I want. I'm supposed to be with you. You can't make me leave or I'll tell your parents."

A new feeling of hatred rose inside Iroh. Before this he had just found Keyung arrogant, rude and annoying. But he had been able to tolerate him, until now. "You're intruding." He said.

But Keyung ignored him. "I'm glad you're a firebender." He said to Vailea. "The only people worth dealing with are firebenders. Everyone else is just a servant, and should be put in their place."

Iroh expected Vailea to lash out, but she didn't. Her face was surprisingly calm. The look in her eyes was understanding, not loathing. It was as if she comprehended completely where Keyung was coming from. "How did you come to that conclusion?" She asked, giving another little smile.

"My father," said Keyung; sitting down on the grass near Vailea. "But it's not an opinion; it's fact. That's why the war is such a good idea. We need to put the rest of the world in its place."

"You're—" Iroh began, but Vailea put her hand out so stop him. Iroh shut his mouth reluctantly. What was she playing at?

"That's too bad. There are a lot of nice people in other nations," said Vailea.

"They're inferiors," said Keyung; pulling out a handful of grass and throwing it into the fire. "Show me one of your moves." He ordered. "Do you know fire daggers?"

"Oh, I don't use firebending that way," said Vailea pleasantly.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't like to hurt people with my firebending."

Keyung looked taken aback. "What's the point of it then?"

"You saw her dragon." Iroh cut in caustically. "There are better ways to use fire than just killing people. You should try it some time."

Keyung glared at Iroh, but quickly turned back to face Vailea. "I bet you could conjure something up, if you were in danger." There was an edge to his voice that Iroh didn't trust. "You could probably make a fire blast if you needed to." And then it happened so quickly that Iroh barely registered what had happened. Keyung hurled a ball of fire straight at Vailea, who dodged it by inches.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Iroh flew in front of Vailea defensively. There was something bubbling inside of him that had nothing to do with the tea he was digesting.

"If she was a real firebender, she would defend herself," said Keyung mater-o-factly.

"Get out!" Iroh yelled. But Keyung stayed put, which only infuriated him more.

"I'm going to be your brother-in-law. You should be nicer to me," he said smugly. "If we're going to be family, I can't tolerate you hanging around with filth like her—she can't even firebend correctly."

And the flames left his hand before Iroh had finished his thought; it was instinctive. Keyung had hit a cord. "Don't you dare call her that!" He roared.

Keyung, like Vailea missed his shot my inches. "Oh," he said gleefully. "She won't fight, but you will. Let's see how good you are. If you want to be in my family, you have to be the best."

The part of Iroh's mind that controlled logic dropped out completely. He was beyond reasoning. This was, perhaps, the way Oazi felt when they practiced. Iroh was firing irrationally and at random. It didn't matter that Vailea was there and that she disapproved. It didn't matter that any injury to Keyung would have his parents roaring with furry. Iroh was shooting madly into the darkness. His eyes were wide, but not as wide as Keyung's. The boy, who seconds ago had been so sure of himself, was staggering helplessly as he tried to avoid Iroh's jets of fire.

"Iroh!" Vailea screamed, but he wasn't listening. "Iroh stop it!" She ordered.

Keyung had managed to find his way to his feet, and was rolling to get a better shot at Iroh's body. He fired, but Iroh dodged it easily.

"I believe you wanted fire daggers," Iroh spat fiercely; immediately the flames shot from the back of his fists. Iroh lunged forward; swinging madly. Every tactic, every combination he had ever learned, Iroh used them all. Keyung dove to the right, and shot flaming disks at Iroh's feet. It was a basic move, one that Iroh had practiced too. And he knew how to counter it. Releasing the fire daggers, Iroh jumped into a cat-like position while the flames rolled under him.

"I learned that tactic when I was thirteen!" Iroh laughed darkly. "And when I was fifteen, I learned this!" Throwing his arm out in front of him, a fiery whip appeared. Iroh cracked it. Keyung tossed another fire ball past his ear, it missed by a wider margin this time. Iroh spun the fire whip around this head before it shot out towards Keyung. It caught the front of his robes on fire, and Keyung screamed. Falling backwards, he began rolling helplessly on the grass; trying to extinguish the flames.

Iroh began walking forward, but a flash of pink robes beat him to the body. Vailea, equipped with the teapot, threw the tea onto Keyung's chest; extinguishing the flames. Keyung squealed when the water, now warm, hit him. He looked up at Iroh, and the fear in his eyes was evident.

The two boys stood panting. Vailea leaned over Keyung. She was crying, and this realization was a sword in Iroh's chest. He had gone too far. He had become like Oazi, like his father, like his family. And then Iroh noticed the warmth on his back; turning around he found, to his horror, that their Story Tree was in flames. The twisted branches looked like arms reaching out for help, but Iroh could only stare transfixed.

Keyung, who had finally come to his senses, noticed his hand in Vailea's. "Get off me!" He spat, as he tried to shuffle away. "You're not even a real firebender! You don't belong here! You don't belong anywhere near the Fire Nation!" This seemed to be all he could say to recover some of his lost pride. In a last fleeting look to both Vailea and Iroh, Keyung escaped into the darkness.

"No," Vailea put her arm out to prevent Iroh from following.

He looked ashamedly down at his feet instead of into Vailea's eyes. And then they both faced their beloved Story Tree. The tangled bark and knots completely engulfed in flames.

"I'll get help," Iroh said frantically.

"No," Vailea whispered, and Iroh looked at her. "It's already too late."


	12. Discovery

Iroh sipped his tea. It was more out of habit than want. He had been making his own brew ever since Vailea disappeared; ever since the Story Tree had gone up in flames.

So much had happened since that night that the weeks seemed like months—years even. The time without Vailea cut such a deep channel between who he was weeks ago, and the sorry excuse for a person he had become. This was largely due to the fact that Iroh could not, would not, forgive himself.

He had gone looking for Vailea. If he needed to apologize to anyone, it was her. Iroh wanted to apologize for destroying the Story Tree, getting engaged, driving her away (the latter most of all). He wanted so badly just to see her. Iroh hadn't caught a trace of her in all the time he had been searching.

Of course it wasn't helpful that the palace staff had stopped talking to him. None of them would tell Iroh where Vailea was hiding. Whenever the maids came to clean his room, they made a point of being in and out in minutes; never making eye contact. Most were tactful enough to clean Iroh's room when they knew he was elsewhere.

Iroh didn't even have the courage to face Chef Ai.

Then of course there was the matter of Keyung. Thanks to Vailea's quick thinking, there were no lasting burns. The only permanent marks were the ones Iroh could not see—those gashes he had left in Keyung's ego. Even those were detectable however; Keyung was walking with his head down these days. When Iroh had gone looking for him (not to apologize, but at least to talk) he had only gotten through to Nobleman Dato.

"Keyung says the burns on his clothing come from you. Is this true?"

"Yes sir."

"Keyung had never lost a duel." Nobleman Dato shook his head. "You were the first to conquer him."

"I didn't know."

"Well in our family we only train the best, you see. Duels are rather important." He paused for a moment. "Oh and Iroh I've been meaning to ask you, Keyung said something about a girl being with you the night of the duel. Is there something I should know?"

"The girl was just a servant. She was only making us tea."

"I see. Terribly sorry I had to ask. I'm just looking out for my daughter you know." Nobleman Dato chuckled. "Well, Keyung is quite an accomplished firebender—or was. I see now he might need a bit more practice. We're sending him back to the southern provinces, you know. In our family, we only accept the best. I suppose that's another reason we're glad so to be acquiring you."

Iroh understood the shame in loosing a battle. Perhaps it sounded better to tell his father this than to explain the truth. Loosing in a duel sounded less shameful than receiving the backlash after assaulting a girl.

Iroh pondered this as he continued to sip his tea. Nobleman Dato was not as carefree as Iroh first suspected. Whispers reached him that Dato's anger had been something to behold when he learned of his son's failure. It seemed foolish, Iroh thought, to expect so much from a son. They were, after all, only human. Even Keyung, with all his arrogance—Iroh still felt some small trace of sympathy for him.

What kind of family could he possibly raise with Dato and his own father at the head? Iroh shook the thought out of his mind. He would not marry Aiko. He must find a way out of it.

The sunlight trickled in through Iroh's open window. Setting down his cup of tea; Iroh collected his things for the upcoming strategy lesson with General Junren. He had been looking forward to it all week. Hopefully, some of the mystery behind Vailea's absence could be uncovered during the time he spent with the General. After all, if anymore knew Vailea as well as Iroh, it would be her father.

Walking through the halls of the palace, Iroh encountered a surprising number of disapproving glares; even more than usual. First there was the maid rushing past him with a towering stack of fresh towels; she went out of her way to turn her nose up at him. Then there was Professor Lee, who jiggled passed while simultaneously arching his eyebrows menacingly. Iroh's only defense was to stop noticing. He lost himself in his thoughts as he tried to ignore the flood of glares.

When Iroh approached General Junren's door, he knocked and waited. It wasn't long before sound of shuffling came from inside. When the door finally opened, an unrecognizable figure stood at the threshold. "Iroh?" General Junren asked with genuine disbelief. "Iroh what are you doing here?"

"Our lesson, it's—"

"But then you didn't get the message?"

"The message?"

"Yes, my lessons are on a hiatus until further notice. I have some urgent business to attend to. I'm leaving on the first ship out."

"Wha—what? Why?" Iroh stared up at him. General Junren was a sharp man with charm and manners. He was dutiful and well-respected, but became more relaxed and displayed a witty sense of humor when he was out of public scrutiny. However, even this more relaxed General did not match the man in front of him. Junren's hair, which was always wrapped tightly above his head, was down around his ears. And even for someone related to Vailea, it looked messy and unkempt. "Is there something wrong sir?"

"No, no Iroh. There is nothing wrong that should bother you." General Junren looked as if he was about to close the door. "I'm sorry Iroh but I really must continue packing. If you just—"

"But sir," Iroh interrupted. "I wanted to talk to you about Lea. She's gone missing and I thought you might know where she is. Is she inside?" Iroh cocked his head to the side; trying to see into Junren's room.

Junren moved to hide his domain. "I'm sorry Iroh," and there was a genuine look of sadness in his eyes. General Junren closed the door.

As he did so, Iroh felt his stomach drop out. An undeniable feeling swept over him; something was wrong. Vailea was not here. General Junren was about to leave for a voyage, an _urgent_ voyage. Iroh knocked on the door. He had put two and two together. "General Junren," he called. "Please, please I need to talk to you." His voice was calm at first, but as no answer came Iroh's volume and worry began to increase. "General," he said loudly. "I don't know what's wrong, and I want to. Please tell me what's happening. Where is Lea? What happened to Vailea?" There was silence again. Iroh knew what he might have to resort to if Junren did not open his door. The panic was rising. "General Junren!" Iroh yelled. "Open this door or I will do it myself!" He waited. "You know I'm capable of it!" There was another silence, and Iroh heard a lock click. The door opened.

"Iroh," General Junren looked strained and even weak. "Iroh listen to me. If you want to keep Vailea safe you can't draw anymore attention to the fact that she's missing. Don't you realize that Chef Ai, the maids, the servants; everyone has been coming to me for information on Vailea's whereabouts?" He sighed. "And I have so little."

"Let me help you then," Iroh urged.

The General paused. He looked at Iroh intently, and then peered around to make sure no one else was nearby. "Come inside," he said quickly. Iroh obeyed.

Inside was a bigger mess than Junren himself. Clothes were strewn across the floor, plates were shattered; Iroh looked in disbelief.

"Please excuse the mess," Junren seemed to read Iroh's mind. "Let me get us some tea," he offered before striding across to an attached room for the teapot.

Iroh was left alone. And as his eyes wandered through the mess, they fell near the window. There was a piece of paper there. It had deep fold marks, as if the reader had reopened it many times. When Iroh reached it, there was a split second where he debated whether or not to open it. But then he noticed the handwriting. Vailea and Iroh had exchanged letters during the period when Iroh had been kept prisoner by his parents. He could pick out her handwriting from anywhere. Iroh nearly ripped the letter open in his enthusiasm.

_ Dear Father,_

_ I miss you already, but I hope you understand why I have to do this. I've thought about it for a long time now, and I'm sure it's the right path for me. _

The letter began and Iroh's heart was beating out of his chest. It continued.

_I never really belonged in the Fire Nation anyway; though you know I've always enjoyed living here with you, Iroh and all my friends. I just think fate has plans for me elsewhere. I think I'll head going home first. I want to look for mother. I know you never found her again, but I know she's alive. Moreover, I'm sure I can find her. Of course I have to ask you not to follow me. I love you so much and won't endanger you anymore. It's just time for me to go. _

Below this there was a tea recipe and a signature. Iroh set down the letter.

Part of him wanted to cry and part of him was still searching for answers. Vailea had left; that much was certain. His, Iroh's name had been mentioned once in the whole letter. After their friendship, after their romantic relationship, Iroh hadn't even received a letter of his own…

The door to the other room creaked open, and Iroh heard a teapot hit the floor. "What are you doing with that?" General Junren asked in an urgent voice. His eyes looked frantically at Iroh, who was still holding the letter.

"I…" Iroh could see no easy way out of this. "I just noticed her handwriting and—"

"Give that to me," Junren said harshly. "How much did you read?"

"All of it," Iroh said honestly. But he was not ashamed and did not regret opening the letter. "Where did Lea go? She said something about heading for 'home'. Where is that? Her home is here." Iroh charged straight into conversation. He wanted answers. He needed to know the truth behind Vailea. It had been unclear for so long.

General Junren looked at him, and slowly found a chair. Rubbing his temples the General looked older and less handsome than Iroh remembered. "Iroh," he began in a low voice. "I know Vailea has never been exactly clear about her past, and it has always been for good reason."

"She said she lived in the south." Iroh said. "What's so dangerous about the south?" Iroh's mind flickered to Nobleman Dato and his family. _They_ lived in the south. Iroh pushed the thought out of his mind.

Junren paused again. He pushed his hair back and looked to face Iroh. "Promise me," he said quietly. "That everything I tell you today will remain between the two of us."

Iroh nodded eagerly. "Yes, of course."

"I tell you this," said General Junren cautiously. "Because I know how much you care about my daughter. The way she talks about you…" Junren drifted off for a moment. "Iroh I'm about to come clean with you. I'm not sure it's what Vailea would have wanted, but then again what my daughter wants and doesn't want isn't exactly clear to me right now." Junren seemed to be hurt by his own words.

Iroh waited a moment before saying. "She really loves you, you know. You are a great father…raising someone like Vailea."

General Junren smiled sadly. "Well, I did have some help." He said; sitting up straight. "In fact, that's what I want to talk to you about. And I suppose it's important for us to start at the beginning."

Iroh could feel what was about to happen. He wondered if Junren was a great a storyteller as his daughter.

"I joined the Fire Nation navy when I wasn't much older than you. It was the early stages of the war then, and I wasn't exactly sure what I was getting myself into." Junren smiled briefly at this, and continued. "After training I was immediately sent to the North Pole. My platoon was part of the first attacks, which isn't surprising. The Fire Nation often uses our new recruits on the front lines—shields for the more experienced troops. I had very little experience. And war is so much worse than anymore can explain." He looked sadly at Iroh. "I was almost killed several times that first week. It's a miracle I managed to survive any of it. The Water Tribe knows how to unite in ways us Firebenders cannot seem to understand.

About a month or so in I was critically wounded. I was nearly cleaved in two by ice from a Water Benders hand. I was able to drag myself away from the fight, but it only brought me closer to the Water Tribe City. I nearly fainted when I reached one of their wells. But in the midst of all my moaning, a woman heard me. She was already near the well. She came over to me. I just remember looking at her; staring at her big blue eyes. She looked back. That girl saved me. She brought me to the Water Tribe Medicine Tent disguised as one of their own soldiers. It was in that tent that I—"

"—fell in love with her," Iroh said in a whisper.

"What?"

"You feel in love with the Water Tribe girl." Iroh was still in shock. His mind was racing. He was beginning to piece together the story. He knew what was coming.

"How did you know that?"

"You feel in love with her, and you had Vailea." Iroh spoke in a hoarse voice. He was staring, transfixed at General Junren. He didn't know what to feel. He didn't know how to act. All he knew was that his world, what he had been sure of, what he had believed with such certainty, was coming apart at the seams.

"How did you know that?" Junren looked just as confused as Iroh; just as urgent. He stared incredulously at Iroh.  
Iroh thought of Kassan's story. How had Kassan known? It was the love story that 'is less well known than others of its genre, but it is one of the most beautiful I have ever heard'. Iroh remembered Kassan's words. He didn't understand why he hadn't seen it before. Everything pointed to it.

"Vailea, she's part Water Tribe."

General Junren looked at Iroh intently. "Well, yes."

Iroh was still frozen. "She lied to me." He said in disbelief. He fell onto a chair. He put his head in his hands, much like Junren had done minutes earlier. "All these years I've told her everything, _everything_ about myself. I shared all my secrets. Why didn't she trust me?" Iroh felt like he was drowning, and he was heading towards hysterics. He had never felt this way before. Even when learning of his arranged marriage Iroh could not remember feeling so betrayed. His father he knew to be deceitful, but Vailea was his best friend.

"Iroh," Junren said softly. "She didn't lie to you, she was just protecting herself."

"I could have protected her!" Iroh's voice was rising. "Why didn't she trust me? What did I do? I thought, I thought…" Iroh drifted off. He wanted to smash something. He needed a way to get out his frustration.

General Junren seemed to anticipate this. He ran at Iroh and grabbed him around the middle. At first Iroh thought he was only protecting his room that could be destroyed during Iroh's rage. But then he realized it, Junren was actually hugging him.

"Iroh," General Junren said; struggling to contain him. "Iroh I know how you must feel."

"No you don't." Iroh said fiercely. "Was I the only one who didn't know? Did Chef Ai know? Did Kisho know?" Iroh's head was racing. "Spirits, everyone must have known. Why was I the only one?"

"Iroh, no one ever knew. We kept it a secret." Junren's voice was stern now. Their roles had changed. When Iroh first entered, he had been the calmer of the two. Now he was a bundle of nerves. "Why would anyone else know?"

"Well if Kassan knew," General Junren had let go of him now. Iroh was facing him. "If a prisoner knew, why wouldn't everyone else?"

"Kassan," Junren repeated.

"He's the one who told me the story in the first place." Iroh said; interpreting Junren's response as a question. "Lea must have told him your story, which he repeated to me. How could she have told him everything? She told a prisoner her life story but she didn't bother telling her best friend?"

"Kassan," Junren repeated.

"Yes, that's what I said."

"No, Iroh. Kassan—he was the name of the medicine man who helped us."

"Who helped you?"

"Yes," General Junren looked overwhelmed now. "Vailea never told me she knew anyone named Kassan." Junren looked saddened again. "She's been keeping so much from me of late. She's been like a different person." There was a pause. "Where did you meet him?"

"He's a prisoner in the dungeons," Iroh said after a brief hesitation. "And he…he helped you?"

"Yes," Junren said again. He sat back down in his chair; staring off, thoughts racing. "And he never told you he was the one who helped us?"

"No," said Iroh; coming back down from his rage. "He never said anyone helped you two. But…you're saying that's why he knew; because _he_ helped you? What do you mean?"

Junren faced Iroh. "Iroh there is only one person besides those in my family who knows our story, and it's Kassan the Medicine Man."

Iroh was quiet only because he was so eager to hear the full story. Bits and pieces had been released to him over time, but know everything was flowing together. He would have to be patient if he wanted to hear it all.

"Iroh," Junren said. "Tell me what Kassan told you, and I will fill in the gaps."

Iroh relayed the story Kassan had told him. General Junren sat and listened anxiously.

"Kassan was the head Medicine Man working for the Water Tribe Infirmary," Junren repeated. "We met when he caught me firebending."

Iroh looked up at him. Junren had always been so responsible, so careful. Firebending in front of waterbenders when he was supposed to be hiding seemed so foolish and out of character.

"I know," Junren gave the flicker of a smile. "I was young and foolish. We tend to make mistakes when we're young. We learn from them." Junren sighed, and Iroh could not help but be reminded of his mistake. "Kassan," Junren continued "was a wise man. He had been one of the doctors taking care of me. I had been firebending to impress the girl. Nothing extravagant," Junren assured Iroh. "But it was enough. Kassan found us. But instead of killing me straight away, as I am sure many Firebenders would have done in the presence of a Waterbender, he let us explain our story. He seemed to sympathize with us. He understood that we wanted to escape. We didn't want to fight; we just wanted to be together. As a medicine man, it was job is to heal. I suppose that's why he sympathized with the two of us who just wanted to live in peace together. It was he who suggested that I, along with Vailea's mother, flee to the Earth Kingdom. That was the plan of course, but you know how that failed…" Junren looked sadly at Iroh.

"Kassan had promised to keep Vailea's mother safe until I could return to her. He was the one who diagnosed her bouts of false illness. But even Kassan couldn't control her. Really, no one could. She was a free spirit. When she had made up her mind to flee, there was really nothing he could do."

"And what happened after that, sir?" Iroh when Junren did not continue. "How did you find Vailea again?"

"Well," said Junren starting up again. "When I returned to the North Pole, she was gone; as was Kassan. I searched all over. And I'm sure you can image how I felt when I realized she had left."

Iroh just looked at him. "Betrayed," Junren explained. "Abandoned, lost. I felt torn in a number of ways. And so I stayed with the navy, not for love of carnage or battle. For years I traveled on ships. I traveled all over the world hoping that I might find her. I suppose that's why I've never taken another woman to marry. I became obsessed with the idea of finding Vailea's mother. It took me nearly eleven years to do so," Junren explained.

"It was not until the Great Siege of the South Pole that I found her." Junren continued. "I'm sure you've heard of it, Iroh. The Great Siege that destroyed much of the Southern Water Tribe culture, people and way of life. Well, that's when I found Kokone. I was about to kill her actually." Junren said in a falsely cheery tone. "I found her in her hut. I had been assigned to raid it, destroy it, and leave the house to smolder as ashes. When I looked inside, she and Vailea were collecting cooking utensils to use as weapons against us." Junren laughed at the memory. It was bittersweet. "It was so like them. But I suppose that's when we recognized each other, my Kokone and I. In the midst of it all, Kokone apologized. She explained to me what she had done, why she had left. She begged me to take Vailea. I had no power to call off the attack, and if Vailea stayed she might have been killed." Junren looked strained once again.

"I told Kokone to come with us. We could all go back to the Fire Nation together. We could, after so many years, be a family. But Kokone was too determined to save our daughter. She said she couldn't jeopardize the two of us getting out safely. Kokone, with her blue eyes and dark skin, was too obviously Water Tribe to pass safely among the soldiers. Vailea however, who has inherited more of the physical qualities found on our soil, could pass. This was very lucky for us. Obviously, it was not as lucky for Kokone." Junren gazed at him so intensely that Iroh almost had to look away.

"So, I lost her. For the second time in my life I tore myself away from her." His voice was breaking now. "I still don't know why I did it. I wanted to save our daughter, and what Kokone was saying made sense. I promised her I would come back for her. I would find her and the three of us _would_ be a family. That's what I promised Vailea too. That's why," he said; whipping his eyes absentmindedly with his sleeve. "I've always traveled to the South Pole. I suppose I never gave up hope that I could bring Vailea a real family, with a mother. It's what I always wanted for her. And I'm ashamed I could never make it a reality." Junren spit the words out harshly. He had stopped looking at Iroh now, lost in the severity of his own situation.

"But you're a wonderful father," Iroh interjected. "You've done a wonderful job raising Vailea. She's always told you everything. She trusts you."

General Junren tried to smile. "Like I said, I had quite a bit of help. Vailea's mother raised her to be who she is. I just borrowed the reigns for a while."

"Don't say that." Iroh urged. "You _are_ a wonderful father. She loves you. She even left you a tea recipe in that note. _That_ is love."

General Junren laughed. "Well I hope this had made things clearer for you, Prince Iroh. But like I said before, I really must be packing. I have a long journey ahead of me."

"But I'm coming with you," Iroh protested. "If Lea is going home to the Water Tribe, I want to come. I want to help."

General Junren shook his head. "This isn't your battle, Iroh. It's my job to find Vailea. After living in the Fire Nation for so long, I'm not sure she could survive in the Water Tribe. They would kill her. Her firebending is such a part of her now I'm not sure she could conceal it." Junren shook his head. "And what if she can't find her mother? Where would she live? Who would take care of her?" Junren was speaking to himself more than Iroh now. The guilt was clearly rising inside of him.

"Pirates probably would," Iroh mumbled.

"What?"

"It doesn't matter," Iroh covered. He didn't want to worry Junren more by exposing that his daughter was traveling to the South Pole via a Pirate ship. "What does matter is that I care what happens to Lea. I want to help you. I want to help you find her. Please," he urged. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure she's safe."

Junren didn't say anything right away. He just stared at Iroh. "And how," he asked calmly "do you plan on convincing your father to let you join me on this adventure?"

Iroh smiled in spite of himself. "Just leave that to me."

**Author's Corner**: WOAH! Vailea's half Water Tribe? That's some crazy stuff right there. But I do believe I dropped some hints along the way so I hope it's not _too_ much of a surprise. Anyway, I know there are a lot of stories out there about Mary-Sue's who are half Water Tribe, half Fire Nation and who can read minds and bend both elements and fly and whatever. I assure you this will not be that story. But I have been planning this since the beginning, so nobody get up in arms.

If anyone is wondering 'when the heck did Junren ever go out searching for Vailea's mother in all the time we knew him?' Well go read chapter 4.

Okay, so this was one of those chapters that I've had planned for so long but never really knew how I would execute. I'm more or less happy with how it came out, and even happier that I can finally get to wrapping up all these loose ends I've created. And by the way, my goal is to have this story finished by the time Avatar Season 3 comes out (September 21 yay!). I'm really not sure I'll be able to do that because band camp is firing up and I have to actually work on some summer homework. But it'd be nice if I could finish my story before we learn more about Iroh, and I have to change up what I'm writing to match cannon. Bleh. I'll update as soon as I can!


	13. Prince Iroh

The throne room—or _that_ room, as Iroh referred to it in his mind. He hated the throne room. It was vast and unwelcoming; placed most inconveniently in the middle of the palace. Its walls were draped with a soft, romantic fabric that failed to hide the rooms' more sinister nature. And Iroh couldn't help but associate it with that unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach; the one that urges the body to turn back before the mind has caught up.

Yet, in spite of all this, _that_ was the room Iroh was walking into with his head held high. He tried breathing deeply now, but the throne room was full of dry heat that tickled his throat uncomfortably. And as the familiar scent of fire hovered in the air, it was laced with the memory of burning bark.

He needed to find a way onto General Junren's ship. That was the plan. He was going on a journey to find Vailea and to bring her home. But of course the General had flat out refused to allow Iroh to sneak onto his ship as a cabin boy or a cook or as any other unidentified face. If he was traveling anywhere, it would be as Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation—a title that seemed to be glued to him as of late.

As a child, Iroh had always found a way to escape his duty and his heritage. Sure he was a Prince, but that didn't make him _different_. He might have had nicer clothes or 'the best' (this was a matter of opinion) tutors, but he was still a child. He still dirtied his clothes, dreaded his tutors while somehow managing to find his niche as Iroh.

It was this _Prince_ who Iroh didn't feel he could trust. How could he? What had the Prince ever done to earn his stripes? He had never gone bargain hunting, never told a decent story, never meet pirates, never met prisoners, never laughed at his own pathetic analogies, never gone on adventures, never hidden for years inside an illusion. And the Prince had never set a tree on fire.

"Father," Iroh said when he finally approached the throne. He was surprised at the clarity of his own voice, as his insides were shaking. Even his clothes seemed to be fighting against him. Iroh swore they were tightening around him with every step. His shoes threatened to trip, and his collar might have choked him had he given it the chance. But Iroh stayed firm, motivated by the task he had appointed himself. "I request an audience with you."

The fiery wall between Iroh and his father cracked and danced in the silence. In the Fire Nation Court, there were some requests that could be asked informally ("pass the fire crisps" for example). But this was no simple question. It was a request the required the dignity and formality of the present setting.

"Iroh," his father said solemnly. Ever since the 'duel' with Keyung, relations with Iroh's supposed future family had become a bit strained. It was a misfortune that Iroh's father did not hesitate to blame entirely upon his son. Iroh took it on his shoulders. He had endured worse before. "What have you come to ask?" The voice was emotionless, cold.

Iroh looked through the flames. There were two thrones sitting under a metal canopy, the tallest and most extravagant of which was unoccupied. Iroh's grandfather had been sick for some time. The throne was his. Iroh's own father however, sat to the right in a smaller throne. It looked almost insignificant in comparison.

"As you know father," Iroh began. He kept his fists clenched behind his back so that he wouldn't be tempted to fiddle with his hands. "I am a man."

Azulon scoffed at this. "A man?" He repeated coldly. "You think that perhaps your exhibition makes you worthy to wear such a name? A man earns the title after he has been blackened in the fires of war. What have you done to match such an accomplishment?"

There was a ringing silence that hung in the air, and broke only when Iroh found the confidence to speak. "That's just it," Iroh began boldly. "Father, I have never been given a chance to fully prove myself. I've trained all my life to ride into battle and fight our enemy, but all my training is wasted unless I put it to the test." Iroh's voice was rising now. It was still as rough scratchy as it had always been, but somehow crisper. He made himself focus on what needed to be said. "Send me to battle. Let me prove myself to you and our nation," Iroh could feel another uncomfortable silence coming on. "Let me make you proud."

The flames crackled, and Iroh struggled to keep his head facing up. How much of what he said was true? The lie was woven in so neatly with subconscious desire that Iroh couldn't pinpoint where on branched from the other. Part of him, the eleven year old boy who played war with his younger brother, never stopped wishing he could ride into battle with his head held high and his armor glistening. But Iroh also felt a pull, and a twinge of guilt, coming from the other part of him—perhaps it was the side Vailea had influenced. What could be gained from more carnage and blood?

Iroh's father's expression was unreadable at first. He just sat there, tall and intimidating; looking more like a brass statue than ever in the shadows. "Proud," he repeated solemnly before adding "when have you ever wanted to make me or our family proud?"

Iroh did not flinch, though the words were bitter. He knew his father had a point. He had never made much of an effort before. Perhaps when he was young Iroh had wanted to make the family proud of him, but the desire had long been buried. Looking back, he couldn't remember there being a time when he had done something just for the approval of his father. "I haven't," he said finally; swallowing a bit of his own selfish pride in the process. "But I'm hoping to change," he lied.

Iroh's father did not respond right away. The pause was long enough to make Iroh wonder if he had spoken loudly enough. "I do confess," he said finally "that it was always my wish to fight alongside my sons; even one as rebellious as you." It might have been Iroh's imagination, but he swore there was the hint of a smile behind his father's words.

Had he really done it? Had he hit the right cord? Had he found some way to influence his father; to manipulate him? "Please," Iroh continued. "I am ready. I am ready to be a man and I am ready to fight."

There was another silence. "What has come over you, Prince Iroh? I was under the assumption that perhaps the war path was one you had begun to steer away from—the influence of General Junren's daughter I imagined. Have I guessed wrong? Do I not know my own son?"

"No father," Iroh's spoke swiftly. He couldn't afford to let the conversation slip into this unexpected territory. He didn't want to talk about Vailea with his father. It would be venturing too close to the source of the lie. "That son you did know, but a change has come over me as of late. I understand," the words were beginning to slow now. Iroh once again had to struggle to push them out "that I have been clinging to childhood for too long. It is time for me to grow up; begin my true path as a man."

Azulon seemed to consider this for a moment. "Yes, I have noticed this too. You have been living too long as a child in the body of a growing man. Yet, I am pleased to hear that you have experienced some change of heart. Perhaps we are beginning to agree on something," Azulon gave Iroh an unexpected look of admiration (or was he being smug?) "we are seeing eye to eye."

Iroh couldn't help but smile, and he didn't know why. It had never mattered before what his father thought of him. He had never cared. But now that he was experiencing the warm glow of approval, it was a hard feeling to abandon. It took Iroh a moment to realize that he was basking in it; drinking in the feeling.

"Yes," was all Iroh could eventually force out. He could not bear to meet his father's eye anymore. He felt like he was taking advantage of this new, almost caring parent. Iroh focused his minds eye on Vailea—the goal was to find Vailea. It was something pure, and untarnished; thinking about this goal was enough to reduce his guilt for the time being.

"I will need time to consider all this," Azulon broke Iroh's thought. "But if given that time, I think I can arrange a short journey for you. It will give you an opportunity to test yourself. And I will alert one of my best officers, who will train and keep watch over you while you sail."

"But father," Iroh interrupted whilst trying not to be rude. "I was hoping to leave much sooner—immediately actually."

Azulon looked puzzled. "Immediately, my son?"

"Yes," Iroh continued; trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. "There is a ship leaving for the South Pole in a few days. It carries General Junren, my strategy professor. I thought it might be appropriate that he help me become better adjusted. You know, we could continue our lessons and apply them to real life."

Some of the light faded out of Azulon's eyes when he asked "General Junren…would this have something to do with his daughter, Prince Iroh? Word has reached my ears that she has gone missing, and there are rumors that the General is taking advantage of this latest expedition to search for her. Iroh, I understand that you have a close friendship with the girl. And I do not believe it will surprise you to hear that it is a relationship I have frowned upon since the beginning. " He paused only for a split second. "Iroh it would be better if we waited until after General Junren has moved on to send you. After all, there is so much you need to be prepared for."

"No," Iroh interjected before he could stop himself.

Azulon looked up. "What did you say?"

"No, please don't make me wait. I can go now." He received another incredulous look from his father. "This has nothing to do with Le—General Junren's daughter. She and I are moving in opposite directions." Iroh was thinking quickly now, trying to fabricate some new lie that would please his father. "We aren't eleven anymore; we aren't children. It would be inappropriate to continue our friendship in light of recent events," he said in what he hoped was a convincing tone. "And she isn't what is important to me. This war is important, my honor is important. I need some change to earn my honor." Iroh had to pause a moment to gather his thoughts. "I can feel a universal pull in this direction; I know it's what I'm supposed to do. I'm supposed to go to war."

Azulon gave Iroh another look before repeating "A pull." And for a moment, Iroh was sure his father was about to laugh at him. But then he said "I see," in a softer voice that Iroh couldn't read. "That is interesting. When I was your age, Iroh, I too felt a pull in the direction of war."

"Then it is in our blood," Iroh said quickly; taking full advantage of the situation. "And when I was your age, didn't grandfather send you to war?" He asked hopefully.

Azulon did not respond right away. "Yes," he paused "and I remember it was very difficult for him. I can now see why."

Azulon said the last line slowly, and Iroh forced their eyes to meet. He tried to read his father's expression. Was it true that Azulon was really exhibiting feelings for him? Iroh still couldn't believe it. Part of him was in denial, another part didn't care, but there was still a buried piece of Iroh that wanted so badly to make his father proud. "Why was it difficult?" He asked with as much dignity as he could muster. He said it awkwardly. In the Fire Nation Royal family, emotion and feeling was often a taboo conversation topic.

And Iroh watched as his father had to jerk himself away from his own thoughts. "I am not sure you can understand quite yet." Azulon lifted his head a bit higher. "You are heir to a great Nation. You are my heir and my blood, my first born son. We cannot loose you without loosing our future."

Iroh was taken aback. He wasn't quite sure how this should make him feel. Was his father being selfish? Or was this his warped way of showing affection? Was Iroh only important because he was the heir? He felt provoked to speak out. "But father, even if I died you would still have Ozai—"

"—who is unfit to rule." Azulon promptly cut across Iroh. "He does not have the self control needed to lead this Nation, nor the birthright."

Iroh felt his chest lurch uncomfortably at this. He could not help but feel sorry for his younger brother. He and Ozai had never grown as close as brother's might, but he knew Ozai. He was the son who was always trying to win the respect of his father. He was the one who practiced his firebending so fiercely that he had to be dragged away from training. And firebending was a skill that had never come as easy to Ozai as it did to his older brother, and for this Iroh felt guilt spread through him like fire.

"Do not pity him Iroh," Azulon said with such coldness that it literally made him shiver. "It was his own choice. We supplied him with tutors, with professors, and yet he still cannot control himself. This is his decision. Yours," he added "is one I am much more pleased with. The decision to go to war is not one to be made lightly. And if you believe you are ready, I will let you go." There was a twinge of sadness in Azulon's voice as he said this, and Iroh thought he understood why. "You may leave with General Junren if you so desire. I know for a fact that there is no immediate danger in the South Pole. The Earth Kingdom is where the fighting is. And I will not have you go there, not yet." He breathed in and continued. "Arrangements will be made and General Junren's fleet with enlarged to accommodate its latest cargo." Azulon looked poignantly at his son.

When Iroh finally departed he was left with an odd mix of emotions. That had not gone at all the way he had anticipated. At least, he thought, with a forced feeling of contentment, he had gotten what he had come for. He was leaving on a ship with Junren in two days. He was going to find Vailea. He was going to bring her back, bring her home.

But his mind was still in a state of unrest. Had he been wrong about his father? Iroh had always assumed Azulon took an indifferent, even hardhearted approach to parenting. But in light of current events, Iroh began to question himself. Perhaps he had been the one in error for all these years. Perhaps he had been the one to push his father away, and not vice versa. Or maybe, and Iroh found this option most likely, they had both been stubborn and inflexible. Neither had ever tried to kindle a relationship, and so one had never started.

And then there was the matter of Ozai. Was his father implying that he did not love his second son? For this reason alone Iroh felt almost obligated to deny his father's affections. Did this mean choosing between his brother and his father? Who would he be loyal to? Iroh tried not to think about it just now. All those decisions would come in time.

**Author's Corner**: Sorry that this took me so long to update, and for the fact that it's a bit of a bum chapter (just dialog, but important dialogue!). But hey, what can I say? Writers block strikes again! Plus, school is happening again this year (bummer), and I have saved all my summer homework to the last minute. I've been pounding papers out like it's nobody's business. And I haven't had time for much else.

It just occurred to me that I often use there author's corner's to give some lame excuse for why the chapter took so long to write, or why it's short or this and that. Sooo I'm just going to stop writing now because that's a pretty lame. But before I go, THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO READS AND REVIEWS. I'm not sure you guys realize how much joy that brings me when I see someone comment about a chapter. I seriously look forward to. I love you all (yes, you).


	14. The Voyage

Iroh twiddled the Panda-Lily between his fingers as he leaned over the side of the ship. He had plucked the delicate flower from the castle garden weeks ago. It was the only one that had survived the early frost, but it had survived. And that made all the difference.

Its petals were soft and fragile—the touch of something familiar. But by now they were covered with the grease from Iroh's fingers; causing them to fall limp and heavy. But Iroh couldn't stop touching the flower. He had been doing so for weeks now, ever since the ship had left port. "You might want to put that in water," one of the officers had suggested. "If you don't leave it alone, it'll die. Put it in some water, and keep it outside." Iroh hadn't taken the advice. The officer didn't understand.

The wind on the sea made him shiver. It was nothing like the perpetually warm climate in the Fire Nation. Iroh had tried wearing thicker armor, but that only made things worse. It was like being trapped in a metal ice box.

"Umph," Iroh heard a grunt behind him. He glanced around. It was a cabin boy, more or less his age struggling with a wooden crate. His long legs were fumbling aimlessly underneath the box that was easily twice his size. As Iroh turned to face, he noticed the boy's unnaturally skinny build. His arms and legs were almost comically slender in comparison to his head. He wore the slightly strained appearance of someone who had grown too quickly in a short span of time.

"Here," Iroh said instinctively as the boy began to rapidly loose balance. "Let me help you with that."

"Oh, thanks," came a voice from the other side of the crate. The boy poked his head around. "Prince—Prince Iroh," he spluttered. "I—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to drop it I just—"

"Don't worry, you didn't drop it. Look, we're both fine." Iroh said calmingly as he continued to level out the box. He hadn't expected to make the boy nervous. "You're going to need to brace yourself like this if you want to make it up the stairs," Iroh instructed. He bent his knees and balanced himself in the way his firebending teachers had always taught. "You see?"

The boy's eyes were wide and fearful when he nodded in response.

"Can you do it?" Iroh asked kindly. "Just bend your knees like this."

The boy did as he was told. He bent his knees and widened his grip around the parcel before looking to Iroh for approval.

"That's perfect," Iroh said with a smile. He let go of the crate and gave the boy a second to steady himself.

"Thank—thank you." There was a moment's pause where neither of them seemed to know what else to say. The tension was broken however, when the boy made an attempt to smile (it was much more like a grimace), and scuttled off on his long, spindly legs (which looked significantly more balanced below his body).

Iroh smiled slightly. Now that he had seen the boy, he realized that he was not 'more or less' his age at all. The boy was just that, he was a boy. An invisible line had been drawn. Iroh was on one side of the line, and the boy on the other. Perhaps he really had been clinging to childhood for too long. Had he grown up without noticing? Not grown up. No. Iroh was not an adult. But he was not a boy either. He was stuck somewhere in between.

Iroh caught his reflection in the polished metal near the helm. The armor made his shoulders look even broader than he remembered. Then again, Iroh had always been endowed with broad shoulders. It was a family trait. Still, it was more noticeable now. And the hair. Iroh had always had thick hair. It was coarse and unmanageable—though not as unruly as Vailea's. He had sideburns too. They ran from above his ears to his jaw line where they met the stubble. Iroh remembered when Vailea had kissed him, and then recoiled playfully when she rubbed against his furry chin. Iroh scratched his face absentmindedly.

Suddenly, he felt the ship _move_. It wasn't that the vessel lurched or halted unexpectedly. On the contrary, it plowed through the waves with the same grace and agility that Fire Nation ships were famous for. Instead, it was Iroh who changed. He felt different—open, exposed. This was first time since setting out that Iroh consciously sensed that he was traveling. It had never occurred to him that he was being transported.

The thought itself was frightening, but not as terrifying as the feeling. This feeling was almost too overwhelming to rationalize, too overpowering for words. It was as if he were awake and alive for the first time, as though someone had flung open a door and Iroh stood helplessly at its threshold. It was a sensation of stepping out of his body to examine himself from both ends—both the observer and the observed.

It didn't take long before Iroh noticed his heart—pump in, pump out, pump in, pump out. And his lungs. Iroh could feel his lungs—breathe in, breath out, breathe in, breathe out. The instinct mechanism flipped on, and told Iroh to run. But he couldn't. He was paralyzed by this state of consciousness.

"Admiring yourself?" Came a voice from behind.

Iroh was startled into whipping his neck around quickly. Too quickly. The muscles protested by sending a hot singing sensation all the way down his spine. Yet in the same instant, the spell was broken. Iroh was released from himself. "Excuse me?" He rubbed his neck and shoulders. His eyes focused on the source of the voice. It was General Junren; looking every bit as calm and poised as any member of the Royal Court. Then again, they were in public. Iroh reminded himself that General Junren always made a point to keep his public and private self exceedingly separate—the two faces of one man. He wouldn't find the frazzled, disgruntled model while they stood in the open air.

"I asked if you were admiring yourself," General Junren repeated, smiling. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. You've grown into quite a handsome young man."

Iroh had forgotten that he was starring at his own reflection in the polished metal. He thought of how he must look; standing there gazing unseeingly at himself. "Oh General stop, you're making me blush," he joked.

The two of them laughed awkwardly. Somehow being here, carrying out the mission to recover Vailea, seemed both the most and least appropriate time to be cracking jokes. It was a paradox the two had been trying to balance since first setting out on their voyage. Every time Iroh saw the General, he felt he should say something witty; lighten the mood. But by the same logic, lightening the mood might imply he was loosing focus. He was acting immature. This was a matter of girl's life. If the Water Tribe discovered Vailea for who she really was, the consequences could be dire.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," General Junren said; cutting through Iroh's thoughts like a knife. "I've been on missions like this before. Missions to retrieve those I'd left behind." Some of the light faded out of his eyes as he said this, and Junren looked immediately older. "Both in my professional and private life, I've gone back to retrieve the fallen. But it's never as easy as we make it out in our minds to be."

Iroh remained silent. The mood had taken such a drastic turn. He wasn't sure if his mouth could form the right words to fit the air around them.

"I'm not saying," General Junren was speaking slowly now "that we won't find her. I'm just saying that—"

"—we can't expect anything." Iroh finished, finding his voice. He had wanted to say it before General Junren so that he wouldn't have to hear it. It was less painful that way. Iroh made a point of looking General Junren squarely in the eye when he added "It's like war isn't it, General? We can take all precautions, prepare for every attack and yet nothing is set in stone."

General Junren nodded wearily. "I'm glad you understand."

Iroh felt his face fold into a solemn expression. The two of them were silent, both men consumed by their own thoughts. And as they faced the sea, Iroh could make out the forms of the glaciers in the distance. They were almost there.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" General Junren said gently. "I'll never forget the first time I saw the polar ice caps. They're like nothing we have in the Fire Nation."

Iroh looked hard at the horizon. The General was right, the sight was truly breathtaking. The ice caps glowed with the same luminous quality as a full moon, and with all the sparkle of the stars. But…"I disagree," Iroh said quietly. His voice was calm and level, not argumentative at all. "They have their mountains made of water, we have ours made of fire. We're not so different."

Out of the corner of his eyes Iroh saw the General blink, clearly taken aback. He breathed in the chill air and responded with "very wise, Prince Iroh." Nodding, Junren chuckled and then looked sideways at him. "Handsome _and_ clever, what a combination."

"Thank you," Iroh responded gruffly. "I owe it all to my education."

The two of them laughed again. This was nice, Iroh thought. Standing here with Vailea's father was nice. And despite any attempt to fight away looming thoughts, Iroh let his mind wander into the dangerous territory of the future. He could see himself growing up, working with General Junren like this as an adult; sailing together. Perhaps one day Iroh would even become General, or Admiral Iroh. And Vailea. She would be a part of it too. He would marry her. Iroh couldn't see there being any universe where Vailea would be content to stay at home in the Fire Nation while he was off adventuring. She would come along. He, General Junren and Vailea would be one, big happy family.

But Vailea hated war. She wouldn't come with them.

She wouldn't have to fight. He could just bring her with.

She would refuse to take any part in it.

Could he make her? No. He couldn't make her do anything. To suppress Vailea was to kill her. And besides, she was too stubborn for that. Well so was he.

Iroh was clutching to strings now. He was trying to connect the puzzle of his life, and pounding in pieces that could never fit. But perhaps he was naive (or narrow-minded, or idealistic) enough to believe there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. It would all pan out in the end. It had too.

"General Junren," came an urgent voice from behind. Iroh turned around.

A strained looking solider carrying a helmet was panting when he reached them. The young man bent over to brace himself with a hand on his thigh. The other arm was outstretched towards General Junren. "A letter Sir," said the solider; still breathing heavily. "It just arrived by messenger hawk. I ran as fast as I could to deliver it. It's urgent."

General Junren snatched the paper out of the young man's hands in one quick swipe. Iroh tried to read it, but the he pulled it out of his line of sight. So he attempted to read the Junren's face instead.

It was as if the air became unexplainably heavier. Iroh knew something was wrong by the way Junren's expression contorted into the strict, uptight face of a General. It was his split personality kicking in again. Junren the father had to be suppressed to be replaced by Junren the General—Iroh had almost forgotten that they were in public.

"Are they positive?" Asked the General, who was still scanning the paper intently.

"The informants are sure. And we've already spotted ships on the horizon. They're coming towards us."

The three men impulsively looked out the bow of the ship. Iroh squinted as he tried to find anything that resembled what he was looking for.

"There," General Junren pointed. His experienced eyes had caught the enemy first.

Iroh looked in the direction of his finger. It was true. And now that he had found them, Iroh was surprised that he had not noticed the ships before. Not only were a group of dots visible across the horizon, but they were moving. Fast.

"How long until they reach us?"

"Within the hour, Sir."

"Damn," General Junren swore under his breath. "I take it that means there are waterbenders aboard."

"We believe so," said the solider quickly. "We can't see any other explanation as to why they're moving so swiftly. They've got to have people bending the water around the ship."

General Junren sighed angrily. He crumpled the letter furiously in his left hand. "Do the informants know of any planned attack? Are we absolutely sure that those ships are coming for us?"

Iroh was switching his head rapidly between the two of them; trying to catch every word. He could understand why General Junren was confused. The Fire Nation supposedly crushed the Southern Water Tribe Navy in the very earliest years of the war. They weren't a threat. Their great cities were demolished; their way of life subdued. Why had they now found the strength to approach, let alone fight, a fully armed Fire Nation fleet?

"The officers on the other ships seem to think so," answered the solider. He was fiddling with his fingers nervously.

"But why now? Why is it so appealing to—" General Junren stopped mid sentence. In a split second turn around, he was facing Iroh. "We're getting you to safety."

"What?"

"Please escort Prince Iroh to a life boat, and transport him to the last ship in the fleet straight away. Inform the captain and the crew that they are to set a course for home _immediately_." General Junren spoke coldly, emphasizing the last word as if the solider were too dense to comprehend it fully.

"What?" Iroh asked again. Though he understood perfectly well what General Junren meant. "No," he said instinctively. "No, I'm not leaving."

"Prince Iroh, be reasonable," urged the solider. "If they're coming for you then you'll be in—"

"I am not leaving," repeated Iroh forcefully. "If they're after me, I'll fight them when they come. I'm not running."

"Do not be a child," General Junren snapped. He, on the other hand, was not urging at all. He was ordering. "You will report to the last ship. You will travel north, and away from threat. You will return to your father safely."

"Return to my father?" Asked Iroh, and he almost laughed as he said it. "I can't go back. We can't have come all this way just to turn around now. We have to find—"

"You are going to return home because your father loves you, and would sooner die himself than have anything happen to you!" General Junren's yellow eyes bulged out of their sockets. And for split second, Iroh thought that he was about to hit him. The words were shouted in a hoarse whisper that came from deep in the General's chest. And Iroh understood almost immediately that this wasn't about him at all.

He paused, looking the General straight in the eye. Iroh pulled himself up to his full height, which was still rather short. But he made every effort to appear just as fierce as the broken man in front of him. "I'll go," he hissed through clenched teeth. Iroh understood that there would be no convincing General Junren now; he was past reason.

The General seemed to pull himself together at the last minute. He looked embarrassed, even terrified at what he had just done. Several of the crew had turned around to watch the scene. Iroh could tell that their eyes were piercing his outer defenses; his perfectly crafted mask of the respectful, honorable General. Even the solider was lost for words.

But before he could say anything else, Iroh turned on his heel. He had no intention of following the orders, but as long as everyone believed he was, that was all that mattered.

It seemed like less than a heartbeat had passed before the solider was at his side; leaving General Junren more alienated and alone than ever. But Iroh did not pity him. It was not Junren whom Iroh was leaving behind, it was the General.

"You made the right decision," said the solider quietly, as he placed a helmet properly atop his head. "I know it feels cowardly to run, but it's your duty. Soldiers of the Navy follow the orders of their superiors, no matter how much they may disagree."

They were empty words, thought Iroh. But he nodded in silence.

The two walked together below deck. And as they did so, Iroh could feel his mind racing. The Water Tribe Navy was coming after him? How had they known that he was here? Did they really think anything could be achieved by murdering the son of the Fire Lord? The only outcome—besides his death—would be violent backlash on the part of the Fire Nation. If he were killed, the Royal Family would react more fiercely than the Water Tribe could imagine. There would be suffering; the Water Tribe would regret. And suddenly, Iroh stopped himself. They would react. His family would react, he was sure of it.

"Something the matter Prince Iroh?" Asked the solider; almost running into him.

"No, nothing." Iroh forced himself to continue walking. The thought was both electrifyingly wonderful, and breathtakingly terrible; the idea that Iroh might be worth fighting for. He suddenly felt more a part of his family than he ever had in his entire life. Just the thought that they would avenge his death somehow strengthened that weak bond. They were his family—the thought was alien.

And through the same logic, he was connected with the most violent and deadly central power in the entire world. This was how they showed their love? Yes. The Fire Nation, especially the Royal Family, praised strength and violence. They loved war and carnage. It was in their blood, and Iroh shared that blood.

His brain was firing so rapidly that he almost lost focus. He nearly forgot the he had to escape. As he and the solider walked in silence for a while longer, Iroh hastily cut together a plan of action. He just needed to think, put all those years of strategy and creative planning to the test. He would need to incapacitate the solider. That much was obvious. He would have to steal the man's uniform as well. He couldn't escape as Prince Iroh. Instead, he would mask himself as someone else entirely. And he would flee, not home as General Junren had ordered. He would sail south to the Water Tribe. The plan was risky and irrational, and even completely idiotic. But Iroh was not going to give up yet.

"How much farther?" Iroh asked with a smile.

"Oh it's just around the corner. General Junren said he would send someone to lower the lifeboat," said the solider cheerfully.

Iroh felt an eruption of guilt for what he was about to do. This solider was a decent enough man; respectful, honorable—and about to be completely incapacitated. Iroh took a deep breath; focusing all his energies until he was centered.

"Oh good they've—" but the solider did not finish his sentence.

In the flash of red and black, Iroh landed a high kick squarely in the soldier's chest; knocking the young man off balance. He faltered for a moment, and quickly succumbed to the force of gravity with a satisfying _clunk_ on the hard, metal floor. But before Iroh could wonder whether or not the attack had done its job, the young soldier was sitting up; sputtering incoherently in shock.

"I'm sorry," Iroh said honestly, and he gave his opponent a split second to comprehend before delivering the second blow. This proved effective. After all, the solider was young and inexperienced. Perhaps he had yet been taught the first rule of war and of life; expect the unexpected.

Iroh removed the helmet from the soldier's head as delicately as he could. Its weight was unexpected—heavy in his arms and even heavier atop his head. And as soon as Iroh had the helmet firmly in position, it could not be clearer that it was not a helmet at all. This was a mask. Iroh tried to convince himself that this was exactly what he needed, what he wanted. It was necessary to leave Prince Iroh behind if he were to escape. And yet…this mask was terribly confining. His vision was obscured, and even breathing was restricted.

Iroh caught his reflection on the side of a brass boiler. But the head he turned towards it was not his own. The face of Iroh, prince or otherwise, was not discernible from behind the mask. He was an anonymous solider; unmarked among a sea of other anonymous and unrecognizable soldiers.

With surprising ease, Iroh was able to drag the unconscious young man into the next room. He stripped him of his outer armor, and used it to replace his own. This would ensure that if he was stopped, Iroh could feign another identity. Hopefully, he would not be stopped. Iroh planned to sail behind the ship and use its smoke trail to mask his presence. As they drifted closer to the mainland, he would seize any chance to escape behind an iceberg or into a cavern.

Questions flooded his brain. How would he find Vailea? What if he were recaptured by the Fire Nation? What would his father do? What if he was captured by the Water Tribe? Iroh tried to weigh which was worse, but both broke about even. As he turned to face the square opening in the side of the wall that would soon frame his only chance at escape, Iroh could feel his stomach drop out completely. What was he getting himself into?

"Lowering boat, call for confirmation!" A voice echoed from above.

Iroh watched as the pulley system sprang to life. The boat would be in his reach within the minute. His breath quickened, and Iroh gazed out the opening towards the not-so-distant glaciers. Iroh checked that his armor was on correctly and convincingly before poking his head out. Iroh tilted his mask to look up the side of the ship and called back "message received, continue lowering lifeboat!"


	15. Escape

Was he dead?

Iroh blinked. No, not dead. Not yet, at least.

As the grogginess of sleep left him, it was almost immediately replaced by the pounding, aching, stabbing pains that racked the rest of his body. His torso was dotted with what must be bruises. His face itched with the uncomfortable crustiness of dried blood, leftover from the deep gash that ran from just under Iroh's eye to his jaw line. His wrists and ankles were chaffed from the rope that bound them. For the agonizing first few seconds, Iroh was convinced that nothing in the world could make him feel worse than this overwhelming physical agony. And then the memories hit him.

His stomach lurched with a new kind of pain—the hopelessness that had settled in his gut ever since he became a captive of the Southern Water Tribe. It had been weeks since he had come in contact with another member of the Fire Nation, months since he'd spoken with his parents and a lifetime since he'd so much as laid eyes of Vailea.

"Umchhh," Iroh made a grunting noise in his throat as he attempted to shift and relieve the tension in his neck. Of course any effort to find a comfortable position was as good as impossible. His back lined up with the wooden pole in the center of the Water Tribe igloo. Iroh's arms were pulled behind his back and bound to the pole somewhere between his shoulders and the ground. His feet, once stripped of the metal tipped Fire Nation boots, had been bound and tethered to the frozen arctic floor. The only source of light was coming from a hole in the roof of the curved ice hut. Iroh presumed that at one time, before it became his prison cell, the hole might have been used as a ventilation system for smoke.

It had all seemed so crude when Iroh first arrived. There were no barred, metal cells for captives like those of the Fire Nation. The decimated Southern Water Tribe could not afford the luxury of metal. But, as Iroh soon realized, they got along perfectly well without it. Iroh's feet and hands were coated in what appeared to be whale blubber: a thick, highly flammable goop that prevented Iroh from using his firebending without the risk of setting himself on fire. It was cheap, it was clever and it smelled terrible.

Of course Iroh had been introduced to the quick-thinking tactics of the Southern Water Tribe very early in his first encounter, when he was ambushed by three Waterbenders on the outskirts of the town.

The events that had occurred between his leaving the ship and becoming a captive were fuzzy at best. Perhaps it was the blow to the head during the heated 3-to-1 battle that made arranging a timeline difficult. It was even possible that Iroh was simply delirious from lack of food and water over the past few days that made even thinking a stretch. Whatever the reason, Iroh had nearly given up his attempt to put events in order.

He _was_ sure of a few things however. He had made it from the ship to the mainland in one piece. There had been a cave, only half above water, which provided shelter for the first night. Iroh had used his helmet as a cup to collect the frozen ice (instead of salty seawater) before heating it with his own firebending. Fish, on the other hand, was a much for difficult matter. He needed food, and fish seemed plentiful enough. Except catching a fish without a fishing pole was twenty times harder than Iroh had ever anticipated. He had gone fishing in the pond back home at the palace, but the fish there were fat and happy, and stupid too. The fish at the South Pole were cleverer, perhaps because the Southern Water tribe literally lived off fish as their main supply of protein. The fish here had learned to outsmart their human adversaries.

The cold was the worst though, even worse than going hungry for a few days while Iroh adapted. He had left in such a rush that any thoughts towards some source of warmth (blankets) had gone entirely out of the window. He slept on the cold, artic floor every night. Firewood was scarce; just a few shrubs here and there to light, and Iroh relied on a pitiful fire to thaw him out.

Finding shelter was also a stretch. The first night he was lucky enough to use the cavern as protection from the harsh, artic winds. But as Iroh soon discovered, he could walk miles across the tundra without finding so much as a snowdrift to use as shelter. On days like these, Iroh had been forced to dig. He used firebending to melt the snow beneath him, and dig a trench. It wasn't palace luxury, or even a ships cabin, but it was survival.

There were moments too. Moments of doubt and moments of questioning. There were moments where Iroh seriously doubted whether or not he had done the right thing. There were even moments where he wondered if _a girl _was worth all this. But then the memory of Vailea shown bright and strong in his mind, and it kept him going. He was coming to save her from the vicious Southern Water Tribe.

It kept him going now too, when all hope seemed loss. He was a captive. The clever guise of an unknown solider was all well and good when he was trying to escape the clutches of his own people, but there was no hiding his nationality in an unknown land. The red and black of his uniform was all too noticeable against the shimmering white snow.

"Eat," a voice came through the fog of memory; quickly followed by a piece of bread to the head. The source of the sound, Iroh blinked up at the man, was an armed guard—day and night different from those back home. This armed guard looked almost identical to any of the peasants strewn about the decimated Southern Water Tribe city. He was draped in animal fur—much of it dyed to match the deep blues and pure whites typical to the Water Tribes. Iroh knew he was an armed guard only from experience, for he guarded small doorway outside the igloo. The man's weapon of choice: an elaborately decorated spear, painted to match his own face paint.

"Umm," Iroh looked from the piece of bread three feet away to his armed guard, who had thrown it from the mouth of the manmade ice shelter. "As much as I would love to follow your order," Iroh gestured with his chin to the moldy mound of bread "My hands seem to be a bit busy at the moment, and I can't reach the—" Iroh knew he was being cheeky, and he knew he should really know better. But the lack of nutrition in his system had severely hazed the part of his brain that was supposed to filter the sarcastic comments.

"—you'll watch your mouth, you Fire Nation bastard." Iroh watched as, within seconds, the armed guard had a spear to his throat. He spat the words (and an awful lot of saliva) across Iroh's bloodstained face, before jamming the piece of bread into Iroh's mouth so violently, that the prince almost chocked on it. "I don't know why they even bother feeding filth like you," the guard continued fiercely. "After what your people did to ours, you don't deserve this kind of sympathy. You don't deserve anything!"

Iroh was glad he had the piece of bread in his mouth. It meant he didn't have to respond. He chewed slowly as the guard pushed himself to his feet. "If it were up to me," he continued "I'd kill you right now. Right on the spot."

The spear was at his throat again, and Iroh instinctively pulled back a bit. The look in the man's eyes bordered on crazed insanity, the kind Iroh had seen only several times in the golden eyes of his brother. Somehow, seeing that same look in blue eyes made it all the more sinister.

"Kopa," a second voice coming from the mouth of the igloo spoke sharply. "Kopa, what are you doing? We have specific orders not to harm him." As he entered, Iroh noticed that this man was older, battle scarred. His dark skin was plagued by wrinkles, not laughter lines. Though his voice was calm in contrast to what Iroh had just heard. It was deep, with a wise tint that seemed to put the room at ease.

"I wasn't going to actually _do_ anything," the guard named Kopa snapped. "I just want to make sure he doesn't get too comfortable here, the little scum—"

"—Kopa"

"Sorry," the man mumbled unconvincingly, though the mischievous glint in his eyes had vanished. "I just hate keeping him here and not doing anything. It's the Prince of the Fire Nation, the heir to the throne sitting right here in front of us. We're not—"

"—we have our orders. We don't even know if this is the right boy. He could be just another Fire Nation solider for all we know. He could—"

"Why does it matter if he's just another fire nation solider?!" Kopa spat dramatically. "One less Fire Nation solider would still do the world a favor."

There was a lingering pause where nobody spoke. Iroh chewed quietly, eyes darting back and forth to catch all that he could from the simple act of observation. He wanted to understand these people. How else was he to escape? The tension was broken however, when the older of the two sighed and spoke slowly "Kopa, we are not barbarians. Despite what the Fire Nation propaganda has been saying for years, we are not barbarians."

"I never said we were—"

"Kopa," he chuckled darkly "don't loose control again, please for all our sakes. Don't let your emotions get the best of you. The pirates will be here _today_ to identify who this boy is. Don't jeopardize everything we've worked for. You need to have your wits about you."

Kopa ground his teeth menacingly, but did not lash out right away. Maybe he was smart enough to know not to insult his elders…at least not right away. "And that's another thing," he continued "_pirates_. How do pirates know him? How can we trust a group of wandering thieves to identify the crown prince of the Fire Nation? How can we—"

"—that's enough Kopa." And it was. Kopa closed his mouth, however reluctantly, and did not open it again.

The two men slumped low out of the mouth of the igloo, and Iroh was left alone.

Iroh could feel the hopelessness that had resided in his gut lift into his chest. Pirates? The only pirates he had ever met were Vailea's pirates. Was it really possible that these were the same men? The working part of Iroh's mind warned him not to put faith in such things. There was a good chance that the pirates really were just another band of wandering thieves, looking to make a bit of extra cash. Or even if they were Vailea's pirates, they probably weren't in the market to rescue a captured prince.

"Rawwk," Iroh's heart leapt at the sound of…a reptile bird? Couldn't be. Could it?

There was a sudden draftiness and a flutter of wings coming from above him. Iroh looked up. The light coming through the hole in the top of the igloo was momentarily obscured as bundle of feathers and claws that made their way to his lap. "Rawwk," the reptile bird repeated.

Iroh was momentarily left speechless. Lots of Pirates had reptile birds—it was a requirement in the unwritten rules of piracy. But Iroh recognized this one, and it made his heart leap. "Well, fancy meeting you here."

The bird tilted her head to the side. If birds could role their eyes, Iroh was sure this one was doing so.

"My apologies for the sarcasm, Madam." Iroh saw a piece of parchment attached to her leg, and only guessed it was for him. But with no means to reach it, Iroh could only stare hungrily at it; eager for any communication with the outside world. "I'm guessing that's for me."

The bird rawwk-ed again, and quickly flew behind him to start her work on the rope around Iroh's wrists. The hopelessness in his stomach rose even higher, making him dangerously lightheaded. He was being rescued.

He felt her peck her way through the binding, and…was that her tongue licking the blubber off his fingers? It didn't matter. He was being rescued. _He was being rescued! _Once his hands were free, Iroh could not help taking a moment to massage his wrists. They had been rubbed raw by the bindings—raw, but not useless. Iroh felt the familiar sensation coursing through him. The fire was bursting to escape his fingertips. Instead of testing it however, Iroh reached for the piece of parchment attached to the reptile bird's claw.

"Thank you," he said eagerly, and she quickly began on his foot bindings.

Iroh immediately recognized the slanted handwriting, and his heart leapt again.

_Firebender,_

_Be ready at midday, when the sun is highest in the sky. _

_Storyteller & co. _

Vailea. Vailea. Vailea. Vailea was here, and she was coming to rescue him—this was a quite the opposite of how the damsel in distress stories normally went (he was only the wrong side of the rescue machine), but they had never exactly been a normal couple anyway.

Midday, when the sun was highest in the sky—when waterbenders would be weakest and his firebending would be strongest. Iroh looked through the skylight above him; the sun was nearing the center of the sky. Iroh's pulse quickened.

"Rawwk," the reptile bird commented offhandedly.

"Thank you, you've been such a help."

She nodded graciously before making her way back through the skylight. Iroh watched her go; silently aching to follow after her. It took all his self control to stay put, and to retie his bindings so that they looked legitimate. Iroh made sure they were easy to slip out of, but tight enough so that at a quick glance they would look just as tight and painful as they had always been.

Waiting was excruciating—almost more painful than the bindings themselves had been. Iroh swore the guards must have heard his heart beating out of its chest, or his quickened breath, or his pulse surging wildly. This must be what waiting for death feels like, Iroh thought irrationally. Except he was waiting for the opposite—for life, for freedom. What connected the two was this idea of the unknown, of understanding that something dramatic was about to happen; having part of the road illuminated, and the rest covered in shadow. He was stepping off on a ledge with this one, just as he had by stepping into the lifeboat months earlier. All these brash actions, it must have been his age. Iroh would grow out of it.

He thought he might be going crazy. The sun seemed to be moving slower than it normally did, much slower. It slugged across the sky like a wounded animal. Iroh couldn't help but look up through his skylight ever couple of minutes, just to check its progress.

That's why "where's the boy? Give him here so I can have a proper look at him!" sounded so distant when it filtered through the thick walls of his igloo. Iroh's daydreaming broke immediately, and he almost forgot to breathe.

Iroh's pale face was flooded with light as the animal pelt flapped open at the mouth of the dome, and a gang of two or three pirates found their way through; closely followed by a larger group of armed guards.

"Is it him?" One of the guards could not help but ask tentatively. "Is this Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation?"

The pirate with the scarf broke in with a "how the hell are we supposed to tell who he is? Look at all that blood he's got caked on his face! He might be the queen for all we know! Come on lads, let's get him into the light so we can have a better look at him."

"Now hold it just right there," the man Iroh knew to be the Pirate Captain put his arm in front of his first mate. "I'm the only one around here with the position to be making orders like that." He paused. "Come on now lads let's get this sack o' blubber outside! On the double!"

There was a shuffling of feet as a few more pirates entered the midst; pushing away most of the armed guards who began protesting. "What do you think you're doing?" One man asked incredulously. "You have no authority to move a prisoner of the Southern Water tribe without our permission. We're—"

"—going to have to have a better look at him if we're to make any sort of judgment in regards to this young boys identity," interrupted the pirate whom Iroh knew to be skilled with daggers. He smiled, sporting a spectacular set of rotting teeth, before pushing his way out of the igloo.

Iroh grunted when the pirates—four or five of them at least—began hoisting him up like he was just another sack of potatoes. As Iroh tilted his head around, he swore he saw one of them give him a wink.

The sun was overwhelmingly bright that day. Iroh blinked painfully into the sky before he was dumped onto a nearby snow bank. He heard continual protests from the gathering group of Water Tribe soldiers. "What do they think they're doing? Put him back!"

"Call the General!"

"Get reinforcements down here!"

The pirate Captain cackled madly as he looked down at Iroh. Yet, even with his twitching eye and crooked smile, Iroh was thankful to see a familiar face. He glanced back up at the captain, whose pet reptile bird had found her way to her master's shoulder. "It's been a while, boy," the pirate Captain said quietly as he kneeled down to inspect Iroh's face in the new light.

"Too long," Iroh mumbled back. It was difficult not to smile back into the Captain's mad, twinkling eyes.

"Well boys," the pirate Captain turned back around to face his crew, who had become intermixed among the Water Tribe soldiers. Iroh might have tried to count them, but there were so many. They seemed to be overflowing from everywhere. There were sixteen, seventeen—holy spirits it was an army. "Has the Southern Water Tribe held up their end of the bargain?" The pirate Captain continued.

The pirate who doubled as an earthbender held up a bag of coins greedily in response. "150 silver pieces, Captain."

"Good," said the pirate Captain with another crooked smile. "Let me first congratulate you Gent's," he addressed the gathering group of Water Tribe soldiers "on capturing a stranded youth in the middle of the arctic tundra, and showing him all the best the Southern Water Tribe has to offer."

Iroh could feel the tension growing among the group. Even the peasants in the village seemed to be expressing interest. Nobody moved, unless you counted the pirate who was indiscreetly sharpening his knives.

"You've tortured him, starved him, nearly killed him," the Captain continued airily "you've done quite a lovely job of it all. You've even called us over to make sure you've got the right man. But," he paused for dramatic effect "you seem to have forgotten one detail."

None of the Water Tribe soldiers stirred. But Iroh watched as the pirates moved silently, like animals stalking their prey. They spaced themselves systematically around the group—one or two pirates for every soldier.

"Well, what is it?" One man asked finally. "What detail?"

The pirate Captain hoisted Iroh up from the snow bank so that he was standing upright. "I thought it was obvious. We're _pirates_," he made a theatrical gesture with one hand. "Seems a bit foolish to have forgotten that bit. Well anyway, the good news is that—now boys!"

Several things happened at once. The second the Captain gave his command, the pirates sprung into action. There were shrieks and cries coming from the villagers, who scattered immediately. Most of the Water Tribe soldiers were caught off guard, and did not have time to ready their own weapons. Instead, they were left to face some of the dirtiest (and cleverest) fighters in the seven seas completely unarmed.

By this time Iroh too had jumped into action. He was in a traditional firebending stance and firing sporadically before the pirate Captain yelled "this way boy!"

He followed without question; dodging the individual punches and kicks that got in his way. Iroh was so hopped up on adrenalin that he had to stop himself from firing off emotion alone. He barely held himself back when one peasant jumped in front of him to seal a side street. Instead, Iroh shoved him into a lonely vender and had to yell "sorry!" as fruits and vegetables tumbled into the road. Luckily, this proved to be quite a large problem for the soldiers who had dutifully taken chase after him. Out of the corner of his eye Iroh watched as several of them flew backwards and tumbled into one another when they slipped on the round pieces of fruit.

"Keep up!" Hollered the pirate Captain, who was gaining considerable speed as he and Iroh scattered through the side streets.

Iroh, on the other hand, was already out of breath; due mostly in part to malnutrition and lack of exercise during his imprisonment. "What about the others?" He called up "How will they—"

"—they're pirate's lad! They've got a few more tricks up their sleeves. They'll—woah!" The pirate Captain stopped inches from the point of a spear. Kopa was grinning maniacally on the other end of it.

Perhaps it was instinct or bitterness that urged Iroh to do what he did next. In one swift motion, he had dived in front of the Pirate Captain and cut the blade off Kopa's spear with one swipe of his fire daggers. Kopa's face became dramatically less gleeful once he registered exactly what had happened. He might have turned to run, but Iroh tripped his feet effortlessly and landed Kopa on his back; knocking him unconscious.

There were a few seconds where neither Iroh nor the Captain spoke. Catching his breath the pirate Captain finally commented "don't know where you learned to use that move. Might have saved my life with it though."

"Then consider us even." Iroh smiled before whipping his head around to stare back at the gathering number of Water Tribe soldiers who were gaining speed behind them—many still covered in the liquidly remains of the fruit stall.

"Go!" The pirate Captain urged. "I'll take care of this lot. Make it a few streets up and she'll be waiting to take you to the ship."

Iroh hesitated.

"Go!" He repeated; pushing him forward. "I can handle this!"

Iroh continued to stare, and the pirate Captain (screaming, no less) ran head on into the crowd of pursuers; leaving Iroh torn. He could only assume who _she_ was—the girl waiting to take him to the ship only a few allies down. But as he watched the pirate Captain fly bravely (or stupidly) into a wall of spears, it was all to obvious which turn to take.

"You're just as stubborn as she is!" He heard the captain holler as Iroh joined the fight. He didn't remember fighting a group this large before, never in training. But even one bender against an army of nonbenders was surprisingly painless. It was really a matter of shifting his weight so that the fire extended to a larger audience.

"Just a few streets up?" Iroh asked when he and the Captain returned to sprinting. The wall of unarmed, incapacitated soldiers was very useful in blocking any further assault from the Southern Water Tribe. Of course Iroh still felt a pang of guilt as they lay helpless in the snow.

"There!" The pirate Captain pointed, and Iroh's pulse fluttered dangerously. There, waiting in an ally was a girl; unrecognizable in her blue parka. And as her brown eyes stared up from below a furry hood, he noticed a small smile flicker around the corners of her mouth.

Irohs' smile was not nearly as subtle. His lips were parted in a grin when they met Vailea's. He was not able to slow down in time to keep from slamming into her, and the duo nearly went tumbling over.

"Time for that later, you shameless youth," the pirate Captain hissed only half heartedly.

Iroh knew he was right, but the logical part of his brain seemed to have dropped out completely. Vailea was in his arms and that was all that mattered. He could feel her—actually _feel_ her—warm body in his arms; heat radiating through the parka.

"I missed you," she sad quietly, with a touch of… regret? Though the words themselves were smile shaped. Iroh was close enough to feel the moisture in her eyes as it fell down her cheeks. Vailea pulled back to wipe the tears away with a furry mitten, but Iroh pushed it back to make room for his own frozen finger as he touched the skin of her face.

"I love you," was all he could manage to articulate. "Lea I—"

"We'll have time for heartfelt reunions once we're safely on the ship," the pirate Captain reminded them. He had to forcefully pull Iroh off of Vailea.

"She's ready to leave the harbor," Vailea gestured to the ship docked nearby. "I've been watching. Most of the crew has already made it back. They're just waiting on us."

"Arrrr, that's what I love about my crew, so loyal to their captain. Why I could be on a trip to—"

"How many injured," Vailea interrupted; looking from Iroh to the Captain.

"Pardon, Miss?"

"How many injured in the escape. You promised minimal inflicted damage on any and all civilians and soldiers. How many injured?"

"Oh, well" the pirate Captain looked warily at Iroh and back to Vailea. "I'm a man of my word. Minimal damage it was!"

Vailea tilted her head and pursed her lips. The look in her eyes said she didn't believe a word of it. Then again, she had always been a bit idealistic about these types of things.

"Come on," she said exasperatedly. "We'll have to run for it. They've already begun setting out."

"What?" The pirate Captain looked wildly from Vailea to his ship. "Those ungrateful dogs!" He called angrily to his crew before turning to Iroh and Vailea. "Step on it you two, or we'll never make it there in time!"

From then until they reached the ship, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. He, Vailea and the pirate Captain darted around venders and in between peasants as they drove their way through the crowd. They barely made it to the platform in time to reach ramp. The pirate Captain himself performed on the most spectacular leaps Iroh had ever seen; only just making it to his ship at all.

Time sped up however, when Iroh, Vailea and the Captain landed with thud on the hard surface of the pirate ship.

"Didn't I tell you," Vailea said with a small smile as she lifted her head off the deck "that it was a good idea to know pirates because they're useful contacts if we ever decide we need some back up."

She might have said something more, but Vailea's ability to form words was greatly handicapped by Iroh's lips covering hers.

**Author's Corner**

Holy spirits that was long. I know I left a lot of questions unanswered. This was my POW BAM BOOM chapter that I never knew would evolve into full blown action fight scenes. I was going to do a chapter of Iroh just wandering around the arctic tundra, but I gave up and fast forwarded to the part where he gets captured. Of course I didn't think anyone would want to suffer through a chapter of Iroh wandering around hating on himself. Next chapter will be my 'ok let's explain what just happened' chapter, but a bit more entertaining than that. It will be angst/romantic probably, but I don't know for sure.

If any of you have read 'Pirates! An adventure with Communists' you will understand that I am taking a huge page out of Gideon Defoe's book with my characterization of my pirates (and a bit from Pirates of the Caribbean—I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, mate). But his pirates are just so hilarious in that book that I couldn't _not_ try my hand at it. Anyway, sorry I've been gone so long. Hope this WHOOPING chapter makes up for it at bit. Hopefully my next chapter will be out sooner. I'm still working on college applications that consume my life. In good news though, I'VE ACTUALLY APPLIED TO COLLEGE! (one college at least). Much love to all my reviewers and readers. Tell me what you think of my action sequences, I've never written many before.


	16. Fate and the Dragon

Every morning before breakfast, Iroh left his hammock. He tried not to wake the other sailors when his bandaged feet creaked against the wood floor. Technically, he was on bed rest, but this was a pirate ship. Rules weren't exactly enforced.

Still, perhaps the ship's medic had a point. Iroh shut his eyes when the aches and pains met him in the waking world. The Earth Kingdom anesthetic's really numbed the uncomfortable throbbing sensation in his shoulders, but the deep gashes in his hands continued to maintain all their original potency. They will heal, Iroh reminded himself as he rocked off the hammock and onto the floor. Spirits help me, they will heal.

He slipped into borrowed boots before making his way up the stairs and into the sunlight, where fragile sunbeams danced and sparkled on the surrounding ice. The glacier snow had a muting effect that hushed his footsteps and quieted his breath, though Iroh still made a point to tip-toe his way to the Captain's quarters. He didn't want to wake her.

Iroh peered through the tiny window and smiled when he saw her sleeping. She looked just the way he had left her; hair a mess, legs twisted in the sheets. Her parka was hanging on the hook where he'd put it, and the snow had melted in a puddle around her boots near the door.

The door creaked only slightly when he went to turn the handle—he was getting better at sneaking in. He leaned in to close the door, when he heard her stir behind him. "Who's there?" She mumbled sleepily.

Iroh smiled and crept towards her bed. He slid his boots off before tucking himself into the sheets. They lay face to face, and Iroh stroked her hair lightly. "It's the sun," He whispered "I've chased away the moon."

Vailea smiled as she nuzzled into Iroh's chest. "The moon is just hiding. She's still there in the sky if you look hard enough." She wrapped her arms around his waist, and massaged her fingers across Iroh's back.

"Then she's a very cruel moon, to hide from the sun like that." Iroh kissed her forehead and pushed strands of hair way from her face. "Maybe the sun didn't mean to chase her away. Maybe if the moon came back out, the sun could apologize." Iroh cupped her chin in his hands and brought their eyes level. "He can be a very stupid sun."

They both smiled and Iroh kissed Vailea's lips softly. It had been this way every morning since the escape. The Pirate Captain ensured that Vailea have a room to herself on a ship full of men—rather chivalrous of him—and Iroh had ignored his threats of dismemberment by going to visit Vailea alone every night before bed and every morning before breakfast. Sometimes they laughed and joked together, and sometimes they said nothing at all. But when there was conversation it was always light, yet somehow laced with a sense of urgency; a rush to make every second count.

It was actually the Pirate Captain who had given Iroh all the details. 'You'd be amazed at how fast word travels through trade ports. I was buying our weekly supply of whale blubber when one of the merchants let slip the rumor that the Water Tribe was holding Fire Nation royalty hostage. We simply made it known that we were familiar with the family, and the right people contacted us. Holy Spirits, it's like one communal waterway down here. Everybody knows everything about everybody else.'

Iroh had pressed him to elaborate, but the Pirate Captain kept suspiciously quiet. When the question arose 'Could you find Vailea's mother?' the Pirate Captain's face had twisted into an expression unreadable. "Aye lad, we've found her.'

Vailea coughed and leaned backward into her pillow, Iroh's eyes followed her. "I've been curious," he began nonchalantly "did the moon ever miss the sun?"

She stared at him. Smiling a whisper "did the sun miss the moon?"

"I asked you first."

"As if that's ever made a difference."

They both laughed politely, and Iroh stroked her hair again. They sat for a moment in this shallow comfort of the familiar until Iroh closed his eyes; muscles tightening with the weight of the response. He pulled the limp, nearly dead panda lily out of his pocket, and the mood shifted dramatically. He pushed the flower delicately into Vailea's hair "I missed you every day, Lea."

His voice broke and Iroh tilted to face her. But when he tried to meet her eyes, they were distant; far gone. "I'm so sorry I drove you away, Lea," he said in a strained whisper. "I'm so sorry I set the tree on fire. I'm—"

Vailea put her fingers to his lips. It was such a quick, fluid motion that it took Iroh a moment to register what had just happened. Then her eyes opened slowly, and she looked at him from under her eyelashes. "Don't," she pleaded. "Please don't apologize, Iroh." His eyebrows knit in confusion, and she continued "it was never about the tree."

The comment cut him, and yet Iroh couldn't understand why. "What do you mean?"

"It…" Vailea bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling, clearly struggling for the right words. Her fingers felt for the flower Iroh had put in her hair, and pulled it into her lap. She breathed a weak laugh while staring, transfixed by the gift that had survived the voyage. "Do you remember the dragon?"

"The…dragon?"

Now _her_ eyebrows were knitting together in concentration. "Do you remember the story I told you all those years ago? The story about the dragon and the firebender whose—"

"—fire both created and destroyed him." The words seemed to come from another mouth, a different time. Iroh's heart skipped a beat. "Oh, _that_ dragon" he half-laughed in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. "Yes Vailea, I do remember _that_ dragon."

His heart was now working double time in an attempt to catch up with the missed beat. Likewise, Iroh's brain was firing sporadically from one corner to the next. Did Vailea still see him as the Firebender from the story? The weak, power-crazed, mortal man who shamed the art of firebending with his ignorance?

"And do you remember what happened to that dragon?" She asked quietly.

Iroh forced his memory into reverse, through the scraps of his life the half formed pictures and sounds he might one day remember in their entirety. "He left didn't he? The dragon abandoned the man because he was so disgusted."

Vailea smiled sadly. "Yes, he was disgusted at himself."

"Wait, at himself? No, he was disgusted at the man."

"Perhaps both."

They started at each other.

"Lea, why would he be disgusted at himself? All he ever did was teach the man firebending."

Vailea laughed, not unkindly. It was a surprised kind of laughter. "They were friends, weren't they? I suppose that's just what friends do, they teach each other. They grow together, don't they?"

"Yes…" Iroh responded uncertainly, though he knew where she was leading with this. "Tell me Vailea, what really happened to that dragon?"

Vailea smiled sadly, while something behind her eyes danced with excitement. Iroh had asked the right question.

"The dragon," she began softly "never quite forgave himself for polluting the man with his wisdom. Of course he lived on for many years afterwards, and saw the tragedy that came from his teaching. He saw children die in the hands of those could control the fire, but he also saw their deaths at the hands of other nations. All of this saddened him greatly, for he both loved and hated the beautiful and terrible people whom he had indirectly created. The old Dragon eventually lost contact with his mortal friend, and he never knew what became of the manwhose fire both created and destroyed him.

In the years of alienation that followed, the years of loneliness and regret, the dragon turned from the moral world completely. He kept to his cave and conversed only with the immortal spirits that passed between his world and the next. The dragon allowed himself to pitfall into the darkest corners of his mind where all questions were banished save for one: Why?

The spirits whispered among themselves that the dragon had gone mad with guilt and regret. Their whispers circled and grew until word reached the most powerful spirit of all: Fate. She was a wicked spirit; as evil as she was kind, with a dangerous beauty that blinded all mortal eyes that happened to gaze upon her. Fate is the keeper of all questions, and the giver of all answers. She took pity on the old dragon, whose fire both created and destroyed him.

'Dragon,' Fate met the dragon in his cave, and breathed the name of the creature whose shriveled skin covered a sullen heartbeat. 'I understand you have a question.'

The dragon's eyes fell through her. 'Have you an answer?'

The two looked into one another, and met at the mark.

'Why?' The dragon's voice was weak; a painful echo of what was once a fearsome roar, though this lost voice did not distress Fate nearly as much as the muted eyes the met her. The dragon's eyes were dim, as if the light behind them no longer made even a feeble attempt to fight the surrounding shadows. 'Why do I suffer with my guilt? What have I done? Is it because he was a human? Can humans not be trusted? But what of the airbenders and earthbenders? Why could I not teach my friend the art of fire as the bison and the badgermoles taught the art of rock and wind? Why have I lost my friend to his weakness?'

The spirit stared past the rotting flesh and sunken eyes. 'These are many questions, and they are one question. I shall answer it as such.

A relationship can never be called a friendship while one is a teacher and the other is a pupil. Friendship is made of two teachers and two pupils.

You dragon, are wise because mortals have labeled you as such. They call you wise because you have lived, and living—embracing joy and misfortune, overcoming the trials—often leads to the greater understanding humans call wisdom. Of course wisdom cannot be taught, and when we attempt to teach it the affects are often more catastrophic than even the teacher understands. Wisdom may come from experience, but the experiences themselves must be genuine. Wisdom is only understood by those who experience it themselves. The moles and the bison did not teach. Mortals learned to master air, water and earth from living and watching the masters. They were not taught wisdom, they learned it.

Your human friend was taught wisdom, and so he was given a power he did not fully understand. You tried to control him with your wisdom. This is why you suffer. You lost your friend the day you became the only teacher. Had you opened your mind to being taught, perhaps you would have been able to understand your human friend, and perhaps your downfalls could have been avoided.'

The dragon breathed in her words. 'How can I save him?' The dragon begged. 'How can I save my—' the dragon paused on the word _friend_ 'how can I save the human from my mistakes?'

Fate whispered through his ear 'Run from him. Do not teach him an answer. You can only leave him with the wisdom you have attempted to instill, and hope that he may find his own insight. You can only leave him to his own devices. For in a friendship fate is joined. Here, your fates have been broken. Leave him, dragon.'

'But,' the dragon protested feebly. 'What if I love him?'

Fate swayed briefly at the door. 'Then you must leave him.'


	17. Kokone

"No, I think this shade is more flattering on him. Yes, Captain would you bring over another role of the dark blue clothe?" Kokone pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear as the Pirate Captain scurried to the self to fetch the requested fabric.

"Here you are ma'am," he said brightly; grinning from ear to ear. His mad eyes twinkled and twitched a bit as Kokone's warm smiled intercepted the dark blue clothe.

"Beautiful. Iroh are you alright with this color?" She turned to hold the spool higher and Iroh looked up from his stewed sea prunes.

"I have never seen a finer blue dye in all my life," he said charmingly.

Kokone pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. "Is that so, Prince Iroh? And exactly how many blue dyes are there in the Fire Nation?"

"Too few," Iroh responded smoothly as he jabbed at another sea prune. Kokone unfolded her arms.

"Excellent save lad," the Pirate Captain whispered in passing. Iroh smiled down at his lunch as he tried to appear smug.

Speaking with Kokone was as natural as breathing. Vailea's mother possessed many of the same qualities as Vailea herself, which made interacting much less intimidating than those 'meet the parents' horror stories had led him to believe. Sure she was fiery and a bit intense, but as long as Iroh's wit could keep up with hers, she respected him.

"Watch your mouth," she shot at the Pirate Captain before he could exit. He turned back to look at her sheepishly. Kokone eyed him. "I won't have you encouraging him like that."

They had made port days ago, in a rural village far from the capital. Kokone lived on the outskirts of town, far from prying eyes and nosey villagers. Her location was ideal, since Iroh and the pirates now had a price on their heads. Iroh was, luckily or unluckily, wanted alive. The pirates were wanted dead.

Kokone, who had been only half involved with the scheme to rescue the prince of the Fire Nation, was furious when they returned. There had been hugging and sobbing and scolding. In the original plan, Vailea was supposed to stay behind with her mother. She was supposed to be kept safe. Of course Iroh could not fathom any parallel universe where Vailea would take a spectator position.

The first meeting between Iroh and Kokone was awkward, to say the least. Although she did her best to welcome Iroh into the hut, there was an obvious unease between them. Iroh had put Vailea's life in danger (more times than Kokone, thankfully, was aware of). She had volunteered to make Iroh a proper Water Tribe garment to better disguise him in a foreign land. But would he stay long enough to even wear it? No one had discussed the act of transporting Iroh back to the fire Nation. The key now was survival.

"I found the fur lining," Vailea announced unexpectedly, and they all looked up.

"Oh, perfect. Vai, bring it over here." Kokone gestured Vailea towards her. "Now your friend Iroh will look truly authentic. He'll—"

There was a sudden squeal from outside, followed by much deeper laughter. The door flap flew open as two little girls ran inside; swiftly followed by their father.

Kokone's husband was a broad man with a battle-worn face covered in a scraggily beard. He had the sharp blue eyes of a Water Tribe native, along with the dark hair and skin. He was honest, stern and intimidating—traits revered in any Nation. He seemed a kind man, though his smiles were reserved mainly for his two daughters and his wife. Iroh himself had yet to receive any sort of warm gesture from 'the husband', and could not help but to feel uneasy whenever he happened to find them two alone in the same room.

"Just back from fishing," he explained to Kokone's inquiring expression. "The girls are such quick learners." He leaned in to kiss her swiftly on the cheek. "They get it from their mother."

Iroh felt Vailea flinch beside him, though her expression remained warmly indifferent. Instinctively Iroh reached out to take her hand.

"Vai," Kokone said instantly without looking up "could you go to the market and buy me some of the fruits the traders just brought in." Her voice was amiable enough, though there was a hint of forceful urgency behind it.

"Yes," said Vailea without protest. "May I bring Iro—"

"Vai," said Kokone in an exasperated tone "of course you can't bring Iroh. What if he were seen?"

"He has the Water Tribe coat—"

"—which will be used in dire situations. We're not going to tempt fate."

Surprisingly, Vailea did not protest. She kept her mouth in a vacuum-sealed horizontal line; grabbing the money sack in her mother's hand and disappearing out the door. Iroh blinked.

The room was left in an unsettling silence in the minutes following her disappearance. Iroh prodded his food warily as Kokone drew her needle fiercely through the blue fabric. It was Kokone's husband who broke the tension.

"Girls, could you go clean the fish outside? They taste best when you prepare them fresh," he spoke sweetly to his daughters. They both nodded obediently and shuffled through the entrance flap. He waited a tick after they left before speaking. "Iroh, there are people on all sides looking for you. I trust you understand that."

Iroh inhaled deeply before nodding. His eyes moved from Kokone to her husband. A sudden pressure took hold in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the food he was eating. "I never thanked you properly," he said quickly. "I know I'm putting you all at risk just by being here. I never intended to harm anyone, I assure you."

"Thank you, Prince Iroh," said Kokone's husband solemnly.

"Vai told us you were different," Kokone interjected quietly. "It was a bit of a surprise when she showed up all these years later on our doorstep with a band of pirates." Kokone's voice caught in her throat, and gulped hard. "I never thought I'd see my daughter again," she whispered.

Kokone's husband moved swiftly to comfort his wife as she broke into sharp sobs and covered her face with her hands. He kissed her forehead and rubber her shoulders with his calloused palms. Iroh made to reach out as well, but thought better of it at the last minute and stayed seated.

"It was surprising for all of us," Kokone's husband continued. "We were just beginning to come to terms with it when Vailea suddenly told us she had to go rescue the enemy Prince of the Fire Nation." Iroh flinched at his words. "We opposed it in the beginning, but Vailea is quite a convincing young lady. She told us you two were _friends_," he seemed to break uneasily at the last word. "She said you were noble and good-natured, and that we needed to rescue you."

"Vai would have gone to rescue you whether or not we were willing to go along with it," Kokone interrupted suddenly. "And I—we—couldn't let her do it alone."

"Thank you," repeated Iroh quietly. "Thank you for all that you have done."

"We're glad to have helped you," said Kokone's husband unconvincingly. "But Iroh you have to understand that I put the safety of my family above all else."

"Yes, of course," said Iroh solemnly. He knew where this conversation was going.

"Hiding you here is a danger to my family; it is a danger to you, and it is a danger to the future of this war." He paused to close his eyes. "Prince Iroh, there are Fire Nation ships searching the coast for you. They are ruthless men; capturing children—_children_—and trying to torture information out of them. They are looking for you, Prince Iroh."

His face was very hot now. There was a line of tension between his throat and the pit of his stomach. Iroh felt sick.

Kokone's husband continued. "At their head is a man called General Junren. Have you heard of him, Prince Iroh?"

Iroh paused to watch Kokone, who did not flinch at the mention of her former lover. The line of tension between Iroh's throat and the pit of his stomach intensified ten fold. He was disgusted. "I knew _of_ him," Iroh settled on uncertainly, as he continued to watch Kokone for any sort of reaction.

"Then maybe you will know that he was part of 'The Wave of Fire', as we call it in our land. Six years ago the Fire Nation tried to destroy the Southern Water Tribe threat once and for all. They were not fully successful, thank the spirits. But we remember them," Kokone's husband kept a reserved expression, though his voice was laced with daggers.

Iroh forced himself to remain calm, indifferent. He could not help watching Kokone in disgust. How could she be so calm? How did her husband not know?

"I knew he was involved with an attack," said Iroh in the calmest voice he could. "He is a General, war is part of his job description."

Kokone, perhaps sensing the mounting tension in the room, spoke. "May I talk to Iroh privately for a moment? There are some things we need to get squared away." She gave Iroh a more than meaningful look, which her husband missed in the crossfire.

"Kokone, I—"

"I need to talk to Iroh," she said forcefully.

There were a few seconds of heavy tension where Iroh forgot to breath. Kokone locked eyes (or horns) with her husband, who finally stepped down.

"I'll be outside with the girls," he grumbled. He tore the door flap open, and disappeared into the snow.

Iroh and Kokone were left alone. Iroh had just enough time to register how surreal this felt when Kokone interrupted his thoughts. "General Junren is headed this way. We have word that his ship will arrive by sunset tomorrow. You need to be on it."

It was so straightforward that the words almost made his head spin. "I—what?"

"Iroh you need to go home. You aren't safe here. We can't keep you safe. There are spies everywhere. The Water Tribe army is on the move; going from village to village looking for you. You need to get out," Kokone said crisply. Her eyes were still a bit wet, though her stare was unwavering.

"I—but what about Vailea?" Iroh asked suddenly.

"What about my daughter?"

"She's coming with me. She's coming back to the Fire Nation."

Kokone looked scandalized. "She is not," Kokone spat. "Why would she go back there? She's home now."

"Her home is in the Fire Nation with other Firebenders," Iroh pressed. "In the Fire Nation she will be well taken care of. She has her father and her friends—"

"—and you," Kokone interrupted succinctly. "Do you think you can take care of my daughter?" Iroh blinked. "Oh, don't think I haven't caught you making eyes at my Vailea. I've seen the fire. I've seen it before…" she trailed off and looked embarrassingly at her feet. She had said more than she wanted.

"You've seen it in Junren," Iroh whispered venomously.

Kokone looked at him with softened eyes. "You must think I'm a terrible person."

The comment caught Iroh off guard. He didn't respond.

"You're still so young," she shook her head and sighed. "I'm sure you think I'm a terrible person for not marrying Vailea's father. In a perfect world, I probably would have." She sighed and looked Iroh squarely in the eye. "How much _do_ you know about Vailea's father?"

"All I need to know."

She chuckled lightly. "You know our history, then?"

Iroh nodded.

"We weren't even seventeen," she explained with a small smile. "We thought we could change the world."

Iroh shifted uneasily.

"We were naive," Kokone continued thoughtlessly. "We were children who thought that love could conquer all our problems." She shook her head. "Iroh, by right Vailea shouldn't even be here."

"Don't say that," Iroh reacted sharply.

Kokone smiled, and it made his blood boil. "People aren't supposed to fall in love outside their own Nation. There aren't supposed to be mixed children." She sighed heavily. "Vailea can't stay in the Fire Nation. They'll kill her if they learn she's Water Tribe."

"I won't let them," Iroh said before he could stop himself. "I won't let them touch her. I'm the Prince."

"Yes," Kokone agreed. "You are the Prince, not the Fire Lord. And even the Fire Lord can't change the will of his citizens. That's the trouble with free will, isn't it?"

Iroh was having trouble restraining himself. Did she enjoy toying with him like this. "Vailea won't be any safer here than she will be in the Fire Nation."

"If she stays here she will be with her mother," said Kokone sharply. "The Southern Water Tribe doesn't search out mixed blood citizens the way the Fire Nation does. She'll have a better chance here than she will with her father."

"You can't hide her like that," said Iroh forcefully. "She's a Firebender. You can't just make her stop being a Firebender."

"Then what do you suggest we do Prince Iroh?" Kokone asked sharply. "If she goes with you, she has to hide. If she stays with me, she has to hide. Those are the cards, Prince Iroh. It's not the best hand," she closed her eyes and sighed. "We can only do the best we can with the cards we are dealt."

"Why didn't you acknowledge him?" Iroh asked suddenly. Kokone opened her eyes. "Why did you let your husband go on about General Junren like that? Why did you let him say those things?"

"Why did you?"

Iroh's voice caught in his throat. Good point.

Kokone shook her head again. "What is the use in arguing with my husband? He's formed his opinions."

"Who says you can't change them?" Iroh asked angrily. "Maybe his opinions are wrong. He's wrong."

"It's the world we live in, Iroh."

"Why can't we change the world we live in?" Iroh asked incredulously. "You act like there's nothing we can do. You act like Vailea should just lie down and surrender, like we all should just give in. I can make it safe for her to live in the Fire Nation. "

"One yes cannot silence a thousand no's," she said quickly. "One person cannot change the world alone."

"Well what about the avatar?" Iroh fumed. By now he had stood up, and was pacing about the room. "Can't he change the world by himself?"

Kokone pursed her lips and looked at the ceiling. "Iroh, you are still so young."

"I'm not that young," he countered. "If the avatar—"

"—and where is the avatar?" Kokone interrupted. "Iroh, the avatar is gone; the balance and peace between nations is gone. All we can do now is survive as best we can."

"You act like you've already surrendered," Iroh accused harshly.

"Haven't we?" Kokone's blue eyes were wide. "How much longer can we fight back? The Fire Nation is near unbeatable. It would be impossible—"

"—nothing is impossible," Iroh interrupted instinctively. "If the avatar is gone then it's up to us, isn't it? We'll have to change the world ourselves. I'll change it."

Kokone laughed. "Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation," she continued "even the avatar does not act alone. Nothing is accomplished without help." She paused. "You may be many things, but you are not the avatar."

"I know what I am," Iroh spat back.

There was a pause in which both Kokone and Iroh only looked at each other. Kokone shook her head and folded her arms together. "Do you?"

**Author's Corner**: I just have a quick comment. I wanted to make it clear that obviously I DO NOT agree with or endorse Kokone's belief that 'there shouldn't be mixed children'. That's her twisted opinion, and it's her character—it's not a message I'm trying to convey. I could go on and on about society and racism right now, but I think most of you could predict my conclusion. There's no such thing as 'pure blood'. We're humans. We're all mixed.


	18. Storybender

Iroh was 17 he met her.

Kokone asked Iroh to stay in bed. It was "the last night you get to sleep in a bed that isn't moving with the waves" and he needed his rest. She had meant to say it jokingly, but Iroh took it as a reminder that he was being forced home against his will. In truth, he hated Kokone. Iroh knew it was childish, immature—it was wrong, but he loathed her. He hated her for trying to keep Vailea; for questioning Iroh's identity. She had come to the wrong conclusions.

At dawn Iroh was too anxious to stay quiet under the fur sleeping bag. When he noticed that Vailea was absent from the hut, he bolted out the door flap. He didn't know where this sense of urgency came from. Technically Iroh was in more danger than Vailea. But the need to protect her felt almost instinctive.

It was easy enough to find her footprints; they were the only set leading away from the hut. His eyes followed the tracks to a little black dot on the horizon that joined water and fire in the sunrise above the ocean. Vailea.

He ran without thought, fuelled singularly by emotion; a sort of paradoxically draining and replenishing need—push and pull.

It never occurred to Iroh that his feet were still in no condition to run. They were bandaged and stuffed into spare boots that may or may not have been his. Iroh's own clothes were disheveled and wrinkled from sleep, while his bed-head hair was messy and sticking out at odd angles. He brushed his mouth absentmindedly; only to be reminded of the coarse stubble across his chin.

The run slowed instinctively to a jog, and then to walk as he crunched through the snow towards Vailea. Iroh blinked into the sunlight when the walk suddenly halted mid-step. He was frozen to the spot. He wasn't that cold, but his legs weren't moving. Iroh watched almost detachedly as his breath materialized in the artic air; he was afraid.

He knew she could sense him standing there awkwardly in-between coming and going; frozen in transition. Iroh let the ringing silence torment his ears for a few moments until the situation became unbearable, and he was forced to speak.

"Lea," he said the word his lips formed most easily. He let it catch in the air and ride the distance between them.

She did not respond.

"Lea," Iroh repeated. Maybe he hadn't spoken loudly enough.

She remained impassive.

Iroh didn't know whether to feel hurt or annoyed. He settled on both. "Vailea," he said her full name forcefully. When she did not respond, Iroh knelt down. He dipped his hand into the snow and fisted it into a ball. He held his breath, aimed and threw. The snowball broke open in a spray of powder on the back of her head.

Vailea wheeled around. "Iroh!" She said clutching the back of her scalp.

"Oh ouch," he braced himself. He had been aiming for her shoulder. Iroh sprang forward instinctively to her. "Sorry about that, Lea. I thought my aim would be better."

Vailea rolled her eyes automatically. "How about: _sorry Lea, I didn't mean to hit you at all._"

Iroh laughed in spite of himself. Like a spell, the awkwardness between them was broken. They were Iroh and Vailea again.

Iroh slid his hand around the back of her head to the tender spot where the snow had splattered. She let him.

"That was a fast ball; I can see stars," she nipped half jokingly half seriously.

"Can you tell I've been practicing, then?"

She scowled at him.

He smiled.

She scowled.

He laughed.

She smiled in spite of herself. "You were always a better aim."

"Nothing's changed, then." Iroh watched as Vailea's smile faltered for a half second, just long enough for Iroh to notice in between blinks.

"Some things have."

Iroh felt the air tighten again. "You're right," he forced words into the rigid void between them "we're older and wiser. Look at this beard," he gestured to his chin "I'm practically Father Time."

Vailea gave a small smile. "If the wisdom of Father Time was measured by his beard, I'm afraid you have a ways to go Prince Iroh."

He cringed instinctively at the mention of his title. "Better off than you." Iroh brushed her chin with a forefinger.

"Oh, would I look good in a beard?" She pushed his hand away playfully.

"You would be the most beautiful bearded woman I've ever seen."

Vailea raised an eyebrow. Without warning she nuzzled into Iroh's chest and asked in a muffled voice "exactly how many bearded woman have you seen in your 17 years?"

Iroh paused for dramatic effect. "Well, if you count the Pirate Captain…" He felt his chest vibrate with her laughter as she pressed her face against him.

"You cheeky—" she started to say, but Iroh dipped his chin downward to catch her in a kiss. It was tender, sweet and laced with longing. It was as familiar as it was new. It tasted like sunlight and supernovas just before an explosion.

They broke apart in one fluid motion. Iroh felt his chest heave up and down as he watched the sun catch her hair in beams of light. He had never seen anything so beautiful. Not even the sparkling ice caps could match her. But as Iroh continued to pant, he noticed how dead her weight felt in his arms. It was like holding a ghost.

"Vailea," he began slowly—immediately resenting himself for asking the question; afraid of what the answer might be. "What's wrong? Why did you leave the tent?"

She looked up at him. "Did the dragon make the wrong decision, when he taught the man to Firebend?"

Iroh, who had expected a question in response, was unshaken. "Well," he began slowly "from a firebending perspective, I suppose my entire culture is grateful that foolish dragon taught a human firebending. I might not be here otherwise," he reminded her gently.

Vailea smiled and nodded "he _was_ a foolish dragon."

Iroh cursed himself for using the adjective. "Or," he played with her hair "maybe he was just lonely. We can do stupid things when we're lonely. You know that." Iroh cupped Vailea's chin in his hands. "He just wanted a friend."

"So he forced his rules and his 'wisdom' on the human?" Her tone was suddenly sinister, threatening. "What kind of friend does that?" She had pulled away again, just over an arms length away. "What kind of person does that?" She shook her head.

It was obvious and elusive—the guilt Vailea was feeling. Iroh could only just understand it, and yet he did not agree with it at all. "Vailea—" he began softly, but she interrupted.

"What about fate, Iroh?" She asked suddenly. "What about—"

"Vailea, you're rambling." He said quietly. She looked up at him, incredulously. "I think we create our own fate, Vailea. It isn't something that can be found in old stories or prophesies. Your destiny is what you make of it…you aren't some old dragon."

Vailea's mouth became a thin line as she tried to conceal her emotions. "I am."

"How can you even say that?" He asked emotionlessly.

"Iroh," she spoke softly "I've always forced my ideals on you. I tried to force my beliefs—holy spirits I was so self-righteous," she dropped her head "—I tried to force my beliefs on you because I thought I was wise, and for that I am so sorry. I'm—"

"Don't apologize," Iroh said in what he hoped was a sympathetic voice. Inside he secretly hated how she was crumbling. Vailea was supposed to be strong, wise, fierce. Where was that Vailea? "Vailea I made my own choices. Yes, you influenced them. We were friends and that's what friends do! Didn't I influence you? Didn't I affect you?"

"Of course you did," she said quietly.

"Then how are you like that dragon, Vailea? If we were both teachers and both pupils how are you the dragon?"

There was a pause, in which Vailea pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I forced my ideals on you, Iroh. I didn't accept you as you were. And then I locked you out. I didn't tell you about my past, and yet I expected you to think the same way I did. I tried to push you away from Prince Iroh…and I'm…" she trailed off and craned her neck upward to keep the tears at bay. "I forced you to be what I wanted to you be." She looked down, and as her head leveled the tears erupted from the corners of her eyes. "I tried to keep you from being a firebender and a prince. Please, don't ever stop being who you are, Prince Iroh. You shouldn't have to change just to please someone. I know…I…" she was crying uncontrollably now.

Iroh rushed forward instinctively to hold her. "You didn't force me to be anything other than what I wanted to be," he whispered in her ear. "Vailea you helped me discover who I am, that's what friends do; it's what people do. I've learned from you and you've learned from me." He rocked Vailea back and forth like a protector. "You taught me how to accept waterbenders, _waterbenders_ Vailea! I'm the crown Prince of the Fire Nation and I like—love waterbenders!" Iroh forced a laugh as his arms locked around her parka to promise himself that he would never let her go. "You didn't force anything on me. We both taught one another. I taught you how to manipulate fire, and you taught me how to express myself in words and stories. I taught you how to be a firebender, and you taught me how to be a…a storybender."

The words sounded cheap, and yet there was nothing else to say. It was the only way he could explain it. He had always been a firebender, and she had always been a storybender. Somewhere along the way they had mixed to become both. Iroh had grown from Vailea, and she from him. As Iroh lost himself in these thoughts, he was only vaguely aware that Vailea had stopped crying. He noticed as she pulled away and took a fuzzy mitten to wipe the tears out of her eyes.

She stared at him with the same sad smile he knew so well. "We are all storybenders, Iroh."

They looked at each other. Iroh had an almost insuppressible urge to reach for Vailea; draw her back in. But he held back. He understood why Vailea was acting this way—she of all people knew firsthand what it was like to pretend; to hide a part of herself; to be someone you're not. She had been hiding all her life. Yet she had taught Iroh to uncover the person beneath the bored, rebellious prince.

"We're all storybenders," she repeated feebly.

In the distance Iroh could hear something large and heavy roar, and the sound echoed.

"I guess that's something all the nations have in common," he tried to hide the tone of bitterness in his voice. He paused before continuing. "You act like your destiny is already written for you, Vailea. It isn't. Please Lea," Iroh bit his lip as he begged with her nick-name. "Won't you come home with me? Come home to the Fire Nation."

"I can't."

"Why not?" He challenged harshly. "Haven't we already established that you aren't that dragon? You don't have to run away. You have to come home."

"Your home," Vailea said quietly.

"Our home."

"Your home is in the Fire Nation. You're a firebender. It fits."

"You are as much a firebender as I am. Being half Water Tribe doesn't make you any less Fire Nation, it just makes you more Water Tribe," he insisted. "You belong in the Fire Nation with me, and Chef Ai, and your father and—"

"—all the anti-Water Tribe propaganda and legislation."

That struck him silent.

"I'm sorry, Iroh," Vailea tilted her head upward. "That's your life. You were destined to become—"

"—I am not destined for—"

"—to become the Fire Lord. I don't know what I'm destined to become yet."

There was another pause. The tension was so heavy Iroh could breathe it. He watched Vailea's eyes dance while the sun sparkled across the snow.

"Could your destiny be to become a Fire Lady?" He asked in monotone.

She just looked at him.

Iroh smiled mischievously.

No one spoke.

Then they both laughed, a real laugh; a free laugh. It was funny.

"That's not fair. You always get me with your sense of humor," she teased. "And you just never give up, do you?"

"I followed you all the way to the South Pole. I can't let you go so easily."

The mood dropped again.

"I can't go with you."

"Yes you can."

"I don't belong there."

"Where _do_ you belong then?"

Vailea bit her lip and shook her head. "I can't live in the Fire Nation because I can't hide the part of me that is Water Tribe."

"You won't have to."

She smiled. "I can't live in the Water Tribe because I can't hide the part of me that is Fire Nation."

"What's left? Where else can you go?"

"The Earth Kingdom. The pirates are taking me."

Iroh threw his arms in the air in exasperation. "That makes no sense! Your logic is warped, Vailea."

"Hasn't it always been?"

He suppressed the urge to laugh just to spite her. "How am I going to explain such a stubborn Fire Lady to my subjects?"

"You won't have to."

"Vailea your father loves you. I love you. The entire Royal Palace staff loves you! How can I convince you that you belong with me in the Fire Nation?"

"My father doesn't love me."

Iroh's breathe escaped him in surprise, and he had to painfully force out the words. "What? That's ridiculous. Of course he loves you."

"He loves the idea of loving me because it gives him something to live for." She said it so simply that it almost made Iroh nauseous. She shrugged her shoulders. "He's obsessed."

"He's a father, Vailea. Of course he's obsessed with loving you."

Vailea shook her head. "He loved my mother, but I am not her. I'm only a reminder of what my mother meant to him."

"But why the Earth kingdom, Vailea? Why do you have to go alone into the earth kingdom? You don't know anyone there. You could be hurt. Why won't you stay with your mother?" He hated himself for suggesting it. Vailea didn't belong anywhere that wasn't the Fire Nation, but at least in the Water Tribe she might be safe.

Vailea looked up at the sky. "I love my mother, like any child would. It's just…"

"What?" Iroh asked in a patient, breathier voice that surprised his own ears.

"My mother has a new family," she said softly. "She has a new husband, new children…"

"You can be a part of that too, you know," Iroh said quietly. "She loves you, your mother. She just wants you to be safe."

"I know," Vailea whispered. "I know she loves me. She wants to keep me safe by hiding me away." She shook her head. "My parents don't' know what to do with me, but I don't think I would either." She stared into the sunlight to make eye contact with Iroh, who was becoming nauseous from her self-pity. "I'll never know who I am unless I leave the Fire Nation and the Water Tribe. I've always been the half-Water Tribe girl, or the half-Fire Nation girl. I've accepted my label because it's a part of me, but I don't know what's underneath it."

The words sounded foreign coming from her lips.

"Running away won't solve anything," Iroh said in a forcefully soft tone.

"Not running, searching," she corrected gently. "You searched for me, and you found me. Now I have to do the same," she might have chuckled.

Iroh's voice almost caught in his throat. "And how am I supposed to be myself when you're not there with me?" He tried to sound light, but his voice cracked from under him. "How am I supposed to tell jokes without you there to laugh at them?"

Vailea moved forward very suddenly, almost as if she were smoke. She embraced him tightly with a painful firmness. "You are Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation," she said willfully. "You are a rebellious, funny, wise, brave, noble, intelligent Prince of the Fire Nation. My leaving cannot change that. Please," she begged "don't forget who you are. Don't forget to be the wonderful, beautiful…" Vailea broke down into tears.

Iroh gripped her so tightly their bodies might have fused together. He knew that he would never hold her like that again.

"You headstrong, obstinate, stupid stupid stupid Vailea—I'm going to have to walk into the sunset without you, aren't I?" He joked bitterly as tears formed the creases of his eyes. "You wonderful, intelligent, creative, loving, beautiful girl…I don't want to loose you, again. Please," he couldn't keep his voice from begging. "Please come back with me. Please Vailea." He knew it was no use. She had already made her decision.

"Tell them all how much I love them."

Iroh didn't have to ask who she meant. He just held her, and cried without sound—past any emotion he had felt before. They melted into one another. There in the snow he let all his being drain into Vailea, as she flowed into him—push and pull. Iroh clawed his arms around his dragon, and let her go.

**Author's Note**: Don't worry, this isn't the last chapter.


	19. Epilogue

"Please, please General Iroh!" The knock echoed in urgency. 

Iroh stirred in his bed. No one was supposed to interrupt him. That was the given instruction. General Iroh was not to be disturbed. No messages, no questions, no visitors whatsoever. Anything classified as an emergency was to be directed to his younger brother, the newly appointed _Fire Lord_ Ozai. 

But the knocking continued.

"Please, please General Iroh. Please we need your help." The voice was soft, feminine, and driving towards hysterics. She spoke in strained hisses. The knocking was becoming more rapid too. Despite his resolve, Iroh was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the sound.

The bed creaked, and his old bones ached in protest. They had become accustomed to lying there on the soft sheets; it was a well deserved rest after the constant stress and physical exertion needed to fight his nation's war. 

Opening the curtains around him, a worn and battled-scarred General Iroh found his way to the cold floor. There was a moment where he was sure that his body could not muster the support needed to hold him. Iroh had, after all, not eaten substantial meals in days; just a sip of cold tea every couple of hours from a teapot that was sitting near his bedside. If he was hungry enough, Iroh might reach his arm a bit further to find the fire crisps or old jerky. But he had requested days ago that nothing new be brought to him. Was he going to starve himself? He had yet to decide.

Just as Iroh was about to topple backward, he flung his arms out and managed to keep his balance. It was a brief moment of triumph, but then the headache hit him. 

The window curtains were drawn tight, and the only light Iroh could use to see by was the beam creeping in from underneath the door. He teetered towards it. The ground was coated in a thin layer of dust. Iroh wasn't surprised. He hadn't left his room in weeks, not since the funeral. And the maids had been asked not to bother him. It seems _most_ of them were smart enough to obey such orders. 

Holding his head in one hand, Iroh found the doorknob. The brass handle was stiff from neglect. It turned reluctantly.

The door whined when Iroh opened it, and he had to prevent himself from yelling "Oh, be quiet!" in frustration. But the urge vanished almost as soon as it had come. After all, the great General Iroh war far too old and world-worn to believe that he had any real power over matters of consequence. He could not control the sound of the door any more than he could control time or space…or death. Besides, the Great General Iroh no longer felt anger.

There was a time when he had. When the messenger hawk delivered the message:

_General Iroh,_

_Lu Ten found dead at Northern outer wall. _

_My deepest condolences, _

_General Jeong Jeong_

It had been scribbled quickly, and tied haphazardly to the hawk that carried it. 

When Lu Ten was first born—the happiest day of Iroh's life if he remembered correctly—there were letters and posters and speeches and even a mural or two painted in his honor. No means of communication were spared as the Royal Family hastened to spread the word that the Fire Nation had been delivered its next line of heirs. 

How stirringly ironic that the letter sealing Lu Ten's death was delivered on nothing more than a torn scrap paper. 

"General Iroh," the maid standing in front of him looked terrified. She was young, probably a new servant; small in frame with wide bright eyes that could only stare openly at him. No wonder she was the only one foolish enough to go against direct orders from the Great General Iroh himself, she didn't know any better. 

"What is it?" Iroh asked as he leaned against the door frame. The headache was almost unbearable. He wished he had the energy to grind the roots and leaves needed to make the pain-dulling tea he remembered from childhood. 

"It's your nephew, Prince Zuko. He's in one of his rages again. This time we're worried he'll loose control completely." The maid continued to speak quickly, so that it took all of Iroh's energy to concentrate on her words. "None the servants want to find his father. We're worried the Fire Lord might do something terrible to him…after his temper last time. Please General Iroh, I've heard you're good with your nephew. Maybe you could say something, or do something…" She looked eagerly at Iroh. 

He sighed heavily. Part of him wanted to banish her completely; leaving him to his mourning. He deserved that much. But even in his delusional, hunger-weakened state, Iroh knew that this emergency was one better not left to his brother. He pinched the area between his eyes and blinked experimentally. "Where is he?"

The maid's face immediately lightened. "In the gardens," she turned to direct him. But as soon as Iroh took a step to follow her, he nearly collapsed on the floor. "Oh no," she said rushed to his side. "Let me help you."

Iroh could not help but laugh feebly in spite of himself. He had once been a great conqueror of empires. Now he was lying on the floor like a weakling, as a lowly servant girl came to his aid. "Thank you," he said quietly as she helped him rise. "These old bones aren't what they used to be." 

She smiled anxiously and laughed cautiously. "Here," she put Iroh's arm around her shoulder and helped him to his feet. "I'm so sorry to come to you like this, General Iroh. I know it's against orders, and I know about your…" she trailed off, and Iroh had to look away. "But you're the only one who can help him," she continued, finding her voice again. 

Iroh nodded and even attempted to smile. "My nephew has always had a Dragon's fire in his blood." The maid looked at him curiously, as if she did not quite comprehend. "I am the world's finest Dragon slayer," he reformed his words. She smiled.

"Oh, and please take this," the maid dug into her pocket to unwrap a small, sweet-smelling bread. It was only then that Iroh realized how starving he was. 

"Thank you," he croaked kindly, before stuffing all the continents of the handkerchief into his mouth. The tang in flavor reminded him immediately of Chef Ai who, spirits bless her, had passed away years ago. "My compliments," he said kindly. 

The maid smiled. "Thank you; it's an old family recipe." 

His body recovered much of its old strength by the time they reached the overarching doorway to the gardens. The sight was just as beautiful as he remembered. Ursa, his brother's wife, had a green thumb every bit as potent as his own mother's. The garden was her masterpiece. Red's of every shade ran patterns and textures through the garden like wildfire. A sting of regret ran an electric shock through Iroh's heart as a new realization struck him. Who would care for the garden now?

In the midst of his own suffering (his son and his father), Iroh had barely registered sympathy for his brother, who had—through unconventional means—lost a wife. All evidence pointed to her shameful surrender of her title and throne; running away. Oazi sent out search parties more out of duty than affection. Iroh knew the flame of their marriage had been extinguished years ago. They were lucky. There had been a flame to extinguish. 

Ursa was a beautiful woman; clever and kind—a good wife and mother, a good person. Iroh respected her. Had he not sold his soul to the army for 9 months out of the year, the two might have become friends. 

By now the desire to fight had left him entirely. The appeal of war—the bloody valor and sick sweetness of victory—seemed to come from a different time, a different person. Iroh had witnessed families charred to ash; children left to die in gutters by mother's fleeing their imminent destruction; sons and daughters sacrificed at the hands of twisted elders who thought themselves wise. But had it not been for the death of his own son, Iroh would have accepted these shortcomings; perhaps forever. The nature of war demanded sacrifice. It was a necessary evil.

The whole idea was nothing less than barbaric. Iroh's body swayed with the nauseating memory of his childhood war games. He and Oazi had dreamed of becoming generals—those greatest titles made of carnage. He had fantasized about riding into battle in a wave of valor and glory. 

His train of thought was broken as the maid shook him tenderly. Iroh hadn't noticed how far they had walked, and how deeply they had strayed into the orchard. He had not visited this part of the garden since childhood. There had been no reason. But the trees looked just as old and wise as he remembered, with their twisted bark and branch arms. 

"He's over there," said the maid almost in a whisper. She gestured through a thicket of trees where adolescent sounds of rage were echoing ominously. "We're all worried he'll strike one of us in his confusion if we enter." 

Iroh nodded in agreement. "I'll see what can be done," he promised quietly. Iroh smiled reassuringly at the maid before entering the thicket alone, and unafraid.

"Yuahhh! Gurrah!"

Iroh passed weakly between branches as he entered the clearing. The location was unmistakable, and the memory tugged on his heart. He and his nephew were standing in the same clearing where, almost forty years ago, he had set a tree on fire. 

"Yuahhh! Gurrah! Veeeah!" Prince Zuko, in the picture of adolescent rage, was flinging himself between branches and tree trunks as he pounded remorselessly into the bark. He screeched and wailed as a relentless river of raw emotion spewed out of every orifice. 

Iroh, who had gone unnoticed, watched in a daze. His heartstrings tightened painfully as the sight sparked an image of his own son at this age. Of course Lu Ten had never behaved in such a manner; his calm, secure, adolescent temperament resembled that of his mother. Instead, Zuko reminded Iroh of a different little boy.

"Gurr—" Zuko's fireball, the first trace of physical fire Iroh could find, was halted prematurely as Zuko's fist landed in his uncle's palm

"Enjoying yourself?" Iroh asked softly. 

The rage behind his nephew's eyes was replaced instantly by a mixture of surprise and fear. He attempted to free his fist from Iroh's massive hand, but Uncle Iroh stood firm. 

"Let go!" Zuko wailed as surprise was once again replaced by anger.

"What?" Iroh asked with an aged, weary calm. "Don't I get a 'hello'?" 

Zuko glared up at him. "You have no business here, Uncle. Let me go!" Zuko returned to pulling his arm out of Iroh's grasp. His persistence was admirable, if not slightly stupid. Even in his weakened state, General Iroh's strength towered over that of his young nephew. 

"I'm afraid releasing you would be out of the question," Iroh spoke softly. "You see, I'm rather fond of these forest trees. It would be a shame to let you char them to ashes." The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

Zuko's face contorted painfully. Iroh watched the shadow of deep sadness pass from one eye to the other across the young boy's face. He released his nephew's hand.

There was a lingering pause between them in which both Iroh and Zuko thought the boy might attack him. Zuko rubbed his newly-freed fist tenderly, and the moment passed.

"I wasn't going to set anything on fire," Zuko spat fiercely into his Uncle's impassive expression.

"Mooselion cubs do not know their own strength." He smiled with the sort of sly, unreadable curve of the mouth that only the truly world-worn can manage. "What is bothering you, Prince Zuko?"

The young prince now breathed with a heavy apprehension. The expression that lined his face told Iroh he had struck a cord. It was as if Zuko had been waiting for someone to ask exactly this question, but he had never dreamed anyone actually would. Now he was caught between surprise, apprehension and relief. 

"She's gone." Was all Zuko managed to croak. "The search parties came back. They didn't find her." His young voice shook as he tried to keep it in line. There were tears forming around his eyes, and Zuko looked down ashamedly to try and hide the emotion. 

Iroh watched at what felt like a distance. Something strong and internal told him to hold back, just for another second. 

"She said that she would always love me," Zuko whispered to the ground. "And I loved her, so much. And now she's gone." His little hands balled into red fists as a wild, unspecified emotion coursed through him. "She's gone!" Zuko wheeled around to release a sheet of fire behind him. The flames burned intensely for a minute, but disappeared long before they touched the hint of bark. Now Iroh moved forward. 

"She's gone because she hates me!" Zuko shrieked wildly as his voice hit a higher octave. Iroh engulfed his nephew in an embrace; a loving wall of the familiar. He felt no pain as Zuko's little wrists pounded into his chest. He had experienced this all before. "She hates me, and that's why she left!" Zuko continued violently. His breath came in shuddered gasps of anger and pain and fear. "She hates me…" he repeated in a muffled sob. "But I love her. I'll do anything to bring her back. I'll be good. I'll practice firebending every day. I'll get better than Azula. I'll be good. Just promise she'll come back, and I'll be good." 

Iroh hugged his nephew even more tightly. Some deep, long untapped part of him stirred painfully. He had been young once, and he had lost someone he loved. His sympathy for his nephew connected them both by the same emotion, even if Zuko was not aware of it. "Now, now, hush my nephew."

Zuko shook angrily, but was unable to speak.

Iroh continued. "I know for a fact that your mother loves you very deeply. She told me so many times." He rubbed his nephew's back. "I remember the day you were born, and your mother said it was the happiest day of her life."

"You're lying," said Zuko automatically, though he still clung to his uncle.

"No, no," Iroh's gruff voice almost chuckled. "I would never lie to my favorite nephew."

"I'm your only nephew," said Zuko, and some of the edge to his voice was softened. 

"Why should that make you any less of my favorite?" 

There was a struggle, but Zuko was able to loosen himself from Uncle Iroh's grasp. "I can see what you're doing," he breathed heavily. "It won't work."

Uncle Iroh sat calmly and stared. "What am I doing Prince Zuko?"

"You're trying to calm me down so that you can make me forget about my mother. And because the maids think I'll kill something. I know they sent you. They hate me, too." His little heart beat a cadence.

Uncle Iroh smiled slightly, and with an edge of sadness he said "come sit next to me, my nephew."

Zuko paused to continue his heavy breathing. Once again, the two of them wondered if Zuko was brash enough to strike his uncle. 

"Thank you," said Uncle Iroh once his nephew was seated beside him. "I want to make it clear to you: I came because I wanted to, the maids were only the messengers." Zuko made no movement Iroh could detect. "Now," he began again in his soft gruff voice. "Please Prince Zuko, talk to me."

Zuko remained perfectly silent for another minute before he spoke. "She came to me the night she left," he whispered to the ground. "She lied and told me she loved me." He shook his head. "She told me to _never forget who I am_, and then she went away…it's so stupid!" He kicked the ground and a heap of dead grass flew into the air. "How can I be her son when she's not here to be my mother?"

Something loud and distant roared in the background. Uncle Iroh's heart dropped into his belly. _Never forget who you are_. Hadn't he been told the same thing almost 40 years ago by a half-water tribe, half-fire nation girl named Vailea? Years ago he may have been in love with her—he _was_ in love with her. He was sure of it, even if the feeling was old and distant. She had been his dearest friend, and his wisest teacher—even if she had refused to believe it herself at the time. 

Iroh stared at Zuko, full of the same untapped potential for great love and kindness that Vailea had found in him. Firebenders could love and be loved; they only needed to be given the chance. Iroh had loved Vailea, even with vast distances between them. He had forgotten how much until now. The emotion had been dulled into a quiet ache, and had almost faded into nothing at all. But it was still there. It found its home near the newer, stronger ache. Once again Iroh could not help but be reminded of how much he loved son, even in death. He loved and missed Lu Ten so much he felt his heart breaking again under the weight of it. 

"Prince Zuko," said Iroh quietly. "You are still the Prince Zuko you have always been, even without your mother he to guide you. You are still the stubbornly smart nephew I remember waving goodbye to on my ship bound for the Earth Kingdom."

Zuko kept his mouth a taunt line, though something in his eyes reflected a muffled understanding of what his uncle meant. Zuko would forever be the crown Prince of the Fire Nation, and he would forever be his mother's most beloved son. Perhaps he would understand it fully when he was older. Uncle Iroh kissed his nephew on his forehead, and Zuko instinctively buried into his shoulder. 

They were just two sorry men with a void to be filled. Zuko would never be Lu Ten, but then again, Iroh would never be Ursa. They were lost in their grief, and it bound them together. 

"Zuko," Iroh rumbled quietly as he comforted the small boy. "Have you by chance heard the story of the two dragons?"

His nephew looked up at him with still wet eyes. "No." He wiped his nose with a sleve. "I don't like stories," he said somewhat caustically, as if to cover his weakness. 

"Oh," said Iroh in mock concern. He patted his nephew's matted hair and brushed a twig out of the topknot. "You just probably have not been told the right kinds of stories. The tale of the two dragons is a most exciting legend."

Prince Zuko tried to hide his emotions in check, but a brief glimmer of interest flickered under his brows. "Stories are for little children. Why should I care about a dragon?"

Iroh made himself comfortable on the grass. "Understanding another's story can often help us make sense of our own, Prince Zuko. Just look at that tree," he gestured. "See how its branches become entwined with all others around it?"

Zuko's eyes followed his Uncle's fingertips around the clearing. "Yes."

"Well, stories are much the same. They begin as little saplings, but grow and grow until one story becomes many stories, and many stories fall into the greater story that we are all a part of."

Zuko looked first confused and then cynical. "You're speaking in riddles, Uncle."

Iroh chuckled in bemusement. "The story I want to tell you may be important someday. It is about a Prince who looses something dear to his heart, and does all he can to win it back. Perhaps it sounds familiar. Are you interested?"

There was a pause. "Tell it to me," Zuko ordered more than asked. 

There was a quiet flash of a young smile on a world worn face. "Once," Uncle Iroh began. 

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all who read this. You deserved to have this story finished ages ago, but I am lazy and unfocused. I know this is probably not the ending a lot of you were rooting for, but it was the Epilogue I planned from the beginning. Luckily the sequel to this story has already been written and animated, so I won't be tempted to take it into my own hands. 

I must give special thanks to The Twilight Rurouni, whose comments kept me going. He was the first to follow the story that I posted nearly a year ago. I knew if I didn't finish it, I'd have someone to answer to. Of course everyone's comments have meant the world to me, and I hope I was able to create a decent story worthy of your time. 

Also, if anyone wants to see the picture that inspired this story, please go to deviantart and look up 'Young Iroh and someone else' by mouseykins. He challenge was to make up a story surrounding the picture. That 'someone else' became Vailea for me. Anyway, over and out. 


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